


Beauty is in the eye of the beholder

by KoibitoDream



Series: Aesthetics [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Hope you enjoy, Kageyama no chill Tobio, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, also hot shot collector Oikawa, another fic in more chapters than one, art collector Oikawa, basically me being a smartass, dear me, mentions of art, more people to appear, ratings are probable to change, shitload of art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-10 23:08:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 49,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7011946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoibitoDream/pseuds/KoibitoDream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world of priceless sculptures, fine art and great masters of the brush is a fickle one, they all come to discover, when one day a painting ends up stolen and one keen eyed restaurateur kidnapped in the process. Oikawa owns one and employs the other. But one of those things has the greatest value. The people behind the theft have no doubts which one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chance meetings; no, really, what are the odds?

Oikawa Tooru is a famous name in the circle of art collectors – for his collection is one of the rare kind. Art pieces collected through out generations in his possession and a few galleries operating under his watchful eye is what made many a rival collector rip their hairs out.

Monet, Renoir, Cézzane, Degas, Pissaro, Sisley are a few more notable names of the Impressionism period; but there are more and Coubert, Goya, Peterssen, da Vinci, Michelangelo, Carravagio, Toulouse-Lautrec, Vermeer, Van Gogh, Picasso, Rembrandt, Rubens, Raphael, Matisse; also some female artists such as Anguissola, Gentileschi, Vigee-Le Brun and Kaufmann are amongst them as well.

 

To put it simply, if you've heard of an artist, chance's are, he's either got it or it was in his collection at one point.

 

But there is one work of art, an oil painting, style and period – impressionism, believed to be one of Monet's own lost works rediscovered at one point in some basement or the other, that bound Oikawa's name to the world of admirable collectors, making the world fall in love with it – and it's a masterpiece of forgery.

Yes, a _fake_.

A fake recognized by five top experts on Monet as his original work, but Oikawa knows better – he commissioned it. He knows who painted it and when, for he was there to witness it as well.

For Oikawa Tooru is a special kind of person. Generations of art collectors' blood runs through him, he's the author of some skilfully made reproductions himself, but he's an unredeemable perfectionist and that painting serves to test the eyes of those who seek to be a part of the art world as art appraisers, restaurateurs or simply a gallery curator under his name.

_Two people know that painting is a fake_ , is what he tells himself, when he thinks the person applying for a job could have what he needs and decides to show them that particular work up close.

All of them take their time and put on a show of analysing it, for Oikawa is never in a rush when it comes to find the one who could see the painting for what it is, but so far they all failed. Some _do_ get the job they applied for, if they pass all other tests, and Oikawa merely goes back to square one, wondering sometimes if anyone did deem it a fake but were too cowardly to admit it.

He quickly dismisses that thought, in the end, he doesn't need cowards in his surroundings and at least one of those countless art school graduates would have said something if they suspected something – is what he concludes.

Then there are days he wonders idly – why even do such a thing? Why fool the world and let them think this deception is real? Risk a spectacular crash from the heights of the art world, which can be the worst, people did lose their lives over paintings and other art throughout history, in case one with keen eyes and instinct does appear and has no qualms of claiming: ladies and gentlemen, this piece is fake!

Or in some other form, but he's more for the drama.

Well...

Must be his own ego, for he knows no one would ever believe them. After all, there are generations' of art collectors who came before him, ensuring his name has more than valid and five people before them validated the damn thing.

Oh, how hard it is to be him, sometimes he thinks.

Nevertheless, he still awaits the arrival of that person.

_And then it finally happens._

 

On one spring day, overladen with fluffy cotton ball shaped clouds, breaking, clearing from the vast blue skies, temperature around 15 degrees Celsius, slight winds coming in from the north-west, air fresh after a violent spring shower with that distinct ozone freshness lingering all around.

It's around nine o'clock; Oikawa Tooru stands in one of his own galleries, a tastefully decorated building, modern in design, a blend of concrete and glass, metal and various types of stone, easy on the eye with the neutral paint job in and out – with a small rose garden in it's centre.

For Oikawa Tooru is nothing if not extravagant in his sense of elegance and harmoniously fitting forms and colours.

Personally, he loves and hates Monet. His favourite piece of that particular master is  _Antibes afternoon_ and the work that pisses him off indescribably is the  _Garden in Givenry._

_He has a habit of standing in front of that particular work and observe it, but the more he observes it, the more it unnerves him. He wants something from it, but he cannot get it._

“You need counselling.” Iwaizumi repeats himself for the...God knows what time when he walks up to Oikawa, finding that nose of his scrunched – again – as he stares into the depth of that painting.

That breaks the self-induced hypnosis Oikawa tends to fall in on his own accord.

Iwaizumi, definitely more that once, thought of removing that painting from his sight. It did things to him. He should know. He's the only one who can put up with his obsessed ass and does so willingly.  _Maybe he's the one who should seek counselling_ , he remarks.

A sigh leaves those lips, once again dealing with defeat dealt by that painted garden.

“Why don't you just paint what you want?” Comes an interesting idea from Iwaizumi, the guy's full of those, mind you, but Oikawa dismisses it with a slight smile.

 

_He cannot._

 

Because all his attempts to do so end up in countless sketches of Iwaizumi's handsome tanned face – sharp lines, fine nose, intense, deep eyes and that short chopped hair of his, looking like it could cut you on occasions, but is actually heavenly soft and silky to the touch. Sometimes accompanied with a sketch of his fine muscled back and arms Oikawa knows better than himself, to be honest here, sees it clearly every time he closes his eyes.

Monet and whatever the heck he wants from those Gardens of his is not what he actually wants. What he wants stands right beside him, muttering smart insults in his direction.

“I see you put up that one again.” Iwaizumi then comments, raising a brow at him in curiosity. It's not often that _Thing_ , as he calls it, is out for public display.

“Yes.” Oikawa confirms, turning to face him, _Garden of Givenry be damned, for now_ , looking quite serene for once. “I thought it might use some fresh air and natural light.”

Even though it hangs on a wall where light cannot reach it, per say, but Iwaizumi gets his thoughts. That painting is something that he holds dear, no matter how many times he dismisses that thought with a laugh.

“Still think they might show up?”

“You know I always do.” Oikawa says, but waves his hand, “though I do not count on it today. I just felt like putting it up.”

“I see.” Iwaizumi reaches for his phone in the back pocket of his black slacks. “I'll find you later then, Matsukawa says the other ones have arrived. See you.”

“And try not to go even more mad with this one.” He ads warily as he glances at the _Garden._

“Promise.”

With that, he's left in the company of that painting and a few more he brought with himself that he likes to hang on the wall by himself. It's a habit he picked up over the years, makes him feel at ease like nothing else.

The sound of slide doors opening fill in the half empty space and footsteps resound as the person walks in, light and stopped abruptly in their path.

Then something happens, Oikawa is to this day not sure what, but he suddenly turns to the person to see a white sneakers wearing, jeans and black shirt clad youth with a grey hoodie tied around his waist, carrying a sports bag and a... _volleyball?_ ...in his hands, standing in front of his commissioned painting with amazing blue eyes wide in confusion as he watches the piece.

 

_Oikawa cannot breathe. His body is stiff and rigid to the point of it being painful._

 

The expression on the teen's face then changes into one of doubt with a layer of vivid disappointment as the words Oikawa's  _dying_ to hear escape his lips.

“ _A...fake?_ ” The teen tilts his head a bit, as if not sure he's seeing it correctly, but the conviction in his eyes only settles in deeper as another minute passes.

“Probably to protect the original.” He passes the final judgement and shrugs a bit, as if that's the most irrelevant thing on the planet. “But definitely fake.”

 

_The poor yellow cat of Matisse almost hits the marble floor, lower left corner first. Almost._

 


	2. A vacation overdue

_If there is anyone on this planet who's most displaced_ , Oikawa thinks, _it must be – definitely is – Kageyama Tobio._

 

Before he stepped foot in his gallery five years back, he was a teen stuck in a decent high school, playing amazing volleyball, no doubt about it, but utterly wasting his talents. In Oikawa's opinion. And everyone knows, Oikawa's opinion matters most. _In Oikawa's opinion._

That day, five years ago, he spent the whole day _fucking_ marvelling at him, along with Iwaizumi and Matsukawa later on, before Hanamaki joined in and marvelled, too. The kid has an astounding spectrum of interests, with art being one of them, and Oikawa was never this grateful for anything in his life. Save Iwaizumi. Of course.

Naturally, he plays it cool. Meaning, he spends 24 hours a day, 365/6 days a year through out his high school life pestering to come join him and pursue a career in one of his galleries instead. _Really, Iwa-chan, preposterous, me? Being a nuisance? How can you even say such a thing- Okay, he can have free time to do his volleyball business, whatever he wants, as long as he say yes_.

He was jumping up and down in his office, eyes wide as the moon and shining like supernova's when he broke the news of Tobio-chan deciding to enrol in art school, art history department and restoration, all at once, to Iwaizumi.

 _Tobio-chan_ passes it with flying colours for once he sets his focus on something, he doesn't let go. Ever.

 

And so it came, that after graduation, he stepped into the art world as Oikawa's personal assistant alongside Iwaizumi with Matsukawa and one Sugawara as his mentors in all things regarding restoration.

Again, put it simply, the kid was an artwork himself. According to everyone, this time around.

He went around the world, gathering experience, working with people (as much as he could, anyway, his communication skills weren't getting him a job as a spokes person, that's for sure), authenticating pieces and exposing fake ones, working on restoring sculptures more than paintings, it just sat with him better, but his _impasto_ technique was in demand when it did come to paintings as well as his keen sense of how a proper _sfumato_ should look like in the end.

All in all, he was almost just as obsessed with this art world as Oikawa himself.

 

It's nearly seven in the evening, but he really can't be bothered with the time – he knows he spent the last few hours staring through a magnifying glass with a strong white light illuminating his assignment.

“Hey, kid, leave it before you poison yourself with the acrylics.” Hanamaki peeks through the doors of the back studio where Matsukawa, Sugawara and Kageyama do their magic and bring dull colours back to life, salvage too wide cracks, repair the material or clean stains from sculptures exposed to traffic pollution which accumulated over the years.

There are also a few private pieces sent in on occasions for a clean up, making Kageyama wonder how they even got there, but decides to leave it be – that's one side he really doesn't want to get involved with. Even Oikawa had to deal with more than enough cases where this or that artwork already had an owner who didn't know their heirloom was found years ago.

“Hello? Did you even hear me?” Hanamaki pokes his cheek lightly as he walks over to the desk he's hunched over, working on a canvas 24 x 36, oil on canvas, battling the mould formed in one corner. “Come on, take a break, you're gonna poison yourself with all these chemicals.”

“Wha?” Kageyama blinks a few times to clear his eyesight, cursing how dry his eyes have become and his own carelessness.

“Seems like you're already poisoned.” Hanamaki laughs lightly, getting eye-drops from his bag. “Here, use these and take a break, Sugawara will kill me if I show up without you for dinner.”

“You two coming or not?” Matsukawa joins in, spinning the keys of his car around his finger.

“I was too late, Issei.” Hanamaki begins in a sorrowful tone, squeezing Kageyama's cheeks between his hands, “he poisoned himself. Woe is this hour!”

“ _Alas, poor Kageyama,"_ Matsukawa raises his hand as if holding a scull, but with his keys in it instead, " _I knew him well._ ”

“Alright, alright, I'm coming.” Kageyama smiles as he manages to get away from Hanamaki's hands. “Let me just wrap this up.”

“Go get your stuff, I'll wrap it up.” Matsukawa ruffles his dark hair in affection before he takes off his suit jacket. “This looks great.” He says as he takes a look what he's been doing. “Well done.”

A slight blush creeps up his cheeks at the praise and he's finally ushered out the studio to get his things.

“Seriously, you guys, how do you manage being hauled up in there all day long?” Hanamaki asks, stretching his arms above his head. “I only deal with paperwork and get sick of it, let alone breathing in chemicals.”

“Don't be silly, Makki, you know the ventilation works all day.”

“I know, but still.”

“Years of experience, what can I say.” He unlocks his car as they all walk towards it.

“Come on, Sugawara's waiting for us.”

“I call shotgun!” Hanamaki jumps with a hand in the air, waltzing to the door, holding it open, “If you will, Kageyama-kun.”

The youngest of them stops dead in his tracks, looking confused.

“Come on, get in.”

“But-”

“It's fine. Really. We love spoiling you, so let us do that.”

“O-okay.”

 

When they finally arrive at the small restaurant, Sugawara is already there with the first round of their favourite drinks, lighting up as the finally walk through the door.

“Finally!” He sighs in relief, a small smile forming on his lips, “I was beginning to think you ditched me.”

“I'm sorry, Sugawara-san, it's my fault.” Kageyama apologises with a small bow before he sits down, Matsukawa right next to him.

“Took us a while to get him out that studio.” Hanamaki says as he sits next to Sugawara, across Matsukawa, who's busy ruffling Kageyama's hair.

“So who's this _Daichi_ person?” Hanamaki smiles the widest and most innocent smile he's got in his arsenal at Sugawara, who almost chokes on his drink, flushing an adorable red all to the tips of his ears.

“Wha-who-how do you know?” Sugawara's caught up in a light cough, as Hanamaki pats his back.

“Let's say a little birdie told me.”

“It was Oikawa, wasn't it?”

“Yep.”

“That's the last time I ever go drinking with him.”

“Now, now, Sugawara-san...don't be so hard on him.” Hanamaki says, grabbing a napkin. “If you hadn't gone drinking with him, I wouldn't have known this little information.”

“That's none of your business in the first place.” Suga retorts smiling, taking the napkin from him. “Besides, I got nothing to tell you, other than he asked me out and I have yet to get back to him for that.”

“What the hell are you waiting for?” Matsukawa interrupts, still battling with Kageyama on the style of his hair he should be having this evening, “Not like you have any doubts about actually going out with Mr. Fire Chief Sawamura.”

“Oh my god, would you two stop pestering me?” Sugawara's eyebrow twitches in annoyance.

“Not until Oikawa gets back from Europe.” Hanamaki mutters over his glass as he was about to take a sip. “Besides, someone's gotta nag you into saying _yes._ ”

“Please stop sounding like him.”

“Like who?”

“Like Oikawa.”

“I don't sound like him?” Hanamaki raises an eyebrow, looking at Matsukawa.

“You sound like him a bit.” Matsukawa nods.

“That's it, I'm requesting a vacation the moment he steps foot in this country.”

“That's a great idea.” Both Sugawara and Matsukawa agree, eyes then wandering to Tobio, who's busy with getting his hair back in order.

“Say, Kageyama-kun,” Sugawara begins, “is there anywhere you'd like to go on a vacation?”

“Vatican, Rome, Italy.” The youngest replies without a second thought. “I'd like to see St. Peter's Basilica.”

“Ugh, you're staring at pictures all day long, why would you wanna stare some more at them?” Hanamaki asks.

“It's not the fresco's I want to see, it's Michelangelo' _Pieta._ ”

“Exactly _how_ is that different?” He asks with a small smile, knowing he lost this one before he even asked.

“It's a statue?” Kageyama says, confused.

Matsukawa and Sugawara merely snort. You tried, Makki. Here's a cookie. Now let it be.

“Okay, then. But they have a coast there as well, you know. Oh, and some rad dishes and music and wine and-”

“How about we all take a vacation and visit Italy? We could make a tour through the country?” Sugawara suggests.

“That's actually not a bad idea.” Matsukawa agrees, moving his arms from the table as their food arrives. “We've been working around the clock all year long, and Kageyama here probably never took a decent vacation once-”

“I've been places.” He protests.

“That was all work, no matter what Oikawa said.” Sugawara explains.

“Oh.” And with that, his focus fall on the dishes before him, because he had no idea how hungry he was until he caught a whiff of his favourite – pork curry and a soft boiled egg.

“-and Oikawa owes us vacation time unless he wants to get his ass sued.” Matsukawa ends his little speech and passes Kageyama the pepper.

“Alright, it's settled then.” Hanamaki claps his hands together, “Check your passports, we're going to Italy!”

 

“You can bring that firefighter along, I hear it's gonna be a hot summer.” He adds quietly just as Suga bites down on his food, earning a kick to his shin from under the table. “What? I'm just saying.”

 

Though that evil glint in his eyes suggests otherwise.

 

_Yeah, a vacation sounds great._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have been introduced to this Firefighter! Daichi thing and all I could do is involve that into this fic. You're welcome/I'm (not) sorry.
> 
> Also, I adore the Pieta in St. Peter's Basilica, like did you see the perfection that guy brought out of that marble I could eat my own hat sweet mercy ayyy.


	3. All roads lead to Rome

“We're finally back!” Oikawa exclaims as he stretches his arms out on the airport, just as he and Iwaizumi get their luggage cleared. It's just past dinner time and he's feeling a bit hungry.

“Are those Hanamaki and Matsukawa?” Iwaizumi raises a brow as he glances to the doors. His face quickly falls into one of utter confusion. “Why is Matsukawa carrying Kageyama over his shoulder?”

“Oh, they all came to pick us up!” Oikawa exclaims, all happy over this unexpected, yet pleasant surprise pick up from the airport. It moved him to tears.

“Yahoo~ we're over here!” He waves, getting their attention.

“Welcome back.” Hanamaki says as he passes right by him, dragging two travel bags behind him;

“Keys are in the usual place.” Matsukawa ads as he also passes by without so much as a glance,

“Guys, wait up, you're gonna board the wrong plane.” Sugawara waves at Iwaizumi, who nods back as he walks up to Oikawa, who's utterly confused by this ordeal.

“I'll send you a post-card!” is all Kageyama manages from his spot on Matsukawa's shoulder, waving at them both, before all four of them disappear into the crowd.

“Have a safe trip.” Iwaizumi says on the phone before continuing towards the exit.

 

“Wha...” Oikawa is still glued to the spot where everyone passed him not seconds ago, turning towards the direction they all disappeared to (were carried off to, in Kageyama's case).

“WHAT THE HECK?!” He yells after them as the scene he witnessed finally falls into place.

“Sir, I need to ask you to keep it down.” A security guard quickly approaches Oikawa. “Otherwise, I will be forced to remove you from the premises.”

“BUT-”

“Shittykawa, move your ass!” Iwaizumi calls from the doors, impatience written all over him. “I just spent 12 hours in a plane, I'm not waiting for you!”

“BUT IWA-CHAN!” He nearly whines as he hurries after him. “What the-what was that all about??”

“What do you mean, what was that all about?” The tanned man turns to Oikawa as they wait for their car to arrive. “You authorized a two month vacation just yesterday.”

“I DID WHAT?”

“Ah, there's the car.” Iwaizumi takes their bags and starts walking. “Move it or walk home.”

“Iwa-chan, so mean!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

 

Meanwhile, everyone got their luggage checked, tickets and reservations cleared and were now patiently waiting for the flight to take off, seated in the business class. All on Oikawa's expense, of course – he owed them a vacation after all.

“Oh, yes, Mediterranean cuisine, beach and parties, here we come!” Hanamaki says, smiling, as he makes himself comfortable in his seat.

“Our reservations have been confirmed.” Sugawara informs them as he types away on his tablet before turning it off and putting it away. “We're set in Rome as our base, but no one can stop us from going on day trips if we want.”

“Sounds great.” Matsukawa says, following Hanamaki's example and relaxing into the seat. Maybe not as much as him, seeing how he almost became on with it, but yeah, it's nice to relax. “Your tablets for nausea are with me, do you need them now?” He informs Kageyama, who's busy rummaging through his bag.

“Yes, please, it's gonna take them a while to start working.”

“Alright.” The older male says as he reaches for them in the front pocket of the suitcase. “Need water?”

“No, these go without.” Kageyama says as he pops one tablet into his mouth, grimacing as he waits for it to melt on his tongue. It's disgusting, but it helps.

“Looks like it's gonna be a full flight.” Sugawara notes as the passengers slowly start filling every seat in the business class section. “Oh, right, there's this thing...”

“That was real informative, Sugawara-san.” Hanamaki teases from somewhere in his seat.

“I can't be bothered to remember, but there's this huge business thing that's scheduled in a few days to take place in Bologna. Or something. I really didn't pay that much attention when you said we were cleared to go.”

“Yep, you're right, no one cares.” Hanamaki smiles wide.

“How's Kageyama? Still not on friendly terms with flights?”

“No.” Matsukawa says as he peeks at the kid, already pecking as a result of taking the nasty tablet. “He's dozing off, though.”

“With a bit of luck, he'll sleep through the entire thing.”

“Yeah.”

Kageyama on his part, is barely keeping his eyes open. He can still hear them talking, but even that is about to change.

“ _Good evening! Ladies and gentlemen and welcome aboard-”_

_And that's the last thing he hears for the next ten hours before he slips away into dreamland._

 

“Excuse me, sir.” A flight attendant smiles kindly at Matsukawa as he looks up from his book. “Is the young man beside you alright?”

“Oh, yes, he just took his medications and is sleeping.”

“Alright, I shall bring you a pillow right away.” She hurries to get one, seeing how he used a jacket and rolled it under his head.

“Thank you.” He says as he tugs the jacket from under his head, replacing it with the pillow.

“He loves that jacket, doesn't he?” Hanamaki says quietly, seeing how Sugawara fell asleep as well.

“Sure looks like it.”

He then covered him with it over the blanket he already had, lest he panics when he wakes up and that jacket is no where in sight. Happened once, let's not repeat that anytime soon.

“Wanna call it a night?” Hanamaki offers as Matsukawa yawns against his own will. “Better make that morning...” He corrects himself as he notices the time – half past two in the morning – they should really get some sleep before they begin lading. Wouldn't want to lose anyone in the crowds before they change their SIM-cards because they were dumb enough to stay awake during a twelve hour flight.

“Good idea. Night.”

“Night.”

And with that, they are faster asleep than they would care to admit.

 

It's the nice flight attendant's voice from last night that wakes them up several hours later.

“ _Ladies and gentlemen,_ ** _welcome_** _to The International Airport Leonardo da Vinci._ ** _Local time_** _is 07:15 and the_ ** _temperature_** _is 19 degrees Celsius. For your safety and comfort, please_ ** _remain seated_** _with your_ ** _seat belt fastened_** _until the Captain turns off the Fasten Seat Belt sign..._ ”

Sugawara and Kageyama are the first to come to, followed by Matsukawa and Hanamaki, who stretches and yawns as if he just woke in a feathery bed.

“This is probably the comfiest I ever slept on a plane.” He says as they move towards the exit.

“It's probably the effect of you going on a vacation.” Sugawara smiles, also yawning himself.

“Who's go the paper work?” Matsukawa asks as he checks his jacket.

“I do!” Sugawara raises a folder. “Stay close. Unless you need to hit the bathroom.”

“Why did you have to mention that now?” Hanamaki whines.

“What are you, two?”

“Keep it in until we get off the plane, Makki.”

“That's it, I'm never drinking anything past midnight on a plane again.”

“Probably for the best.” Both Sugawara and Matsukawa agree.

“Where's Kageyama?” The pink haired male then asks, briefly forgetting his toilet troubles.

“Here.” He says as he waves from behind Matsukawa, lifting his gaze from the travels guide he had been reading for the past few days. “What do we do first?”

“Get off this plane and find Hanamaki a toilet.”

The blue eyed male merely blinks at that course of events.

“Okay.”

Passports and other paperwork in order, luggage accounted for, Hanamaki done with the toilet and they're on their way to their usual hotel when visiting the capital for business purposes. This time around, it's two month of bliss.

“Now before everyone starts listing everything you want to do, friendly reminder that we got two months time to see all of it.” Sugawara says as they sit in their rented car with Matsukawa behind the wheel and Hanamaki next to him.

“You can just leave me in Vatican city.” Kageyama offers, eyes lit.

“For _two_ months?” Hanamaki smiles as he turns around in his seat.

“Well I hear you _do_ need about a week to admire just the Basilica.” Matsukawa teases.

“Yeah, and let him wander into some restoration project? No way. _You_ are here to relax.” He reaches out and ruffles his hair, earning a scoff. “Besides, if you _do_ wander off into some project, might as well be the one they're doing on the _Colosseo._ ” He winks at his as he produces two passes in his right hand.

“Are you serious?” Sugawara nearly groans as Kageyama's eyes go wide in surprise.

“So that's why you've been insisting on Italy.” Matsukawa rolls his eyes with a smile as he takes a turn. “God, you're even worse than me.”

“Like he'll enjoy clubbing and concerts until the wee morning hours.” Hanamaki sits back properly in his seat, readjusting the seatbelt. “Work is relaxation for him, you know it as much as everyone present here, and I think better us moderating things than him _really_ walking off into a studio and then see how you'll get him away from it.”

“True, Makki, true.”

“Still, that was a nice touch.” Sugawara ads in as he leans between the seats. “Feeling guilty about dragging him away from that miniature before we left?”

“Also that, yes.”

“Makki-san.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome, kid.”

Suddenly a grumble resounds and Kageyama's face goes spectacularly red. Hanamaki's follows.

“I vote we visit Ciccia before anything else.” He says, not giving two shits that they're driving towards the exact opposite side from that place.

“Nice try, but I'm not making two round trips before getting a change of clothes.”

“Issei, you surprise me.” He raises a brow at him. “You want our precious Kageyama to starve in the capital of Italy? That's cruel. Even by your standards.”

“You just want to stuff your face with those rosemary...things...”

“But they're so good!”

“I'm sure they have decent food in the hotel for the time being.”

“Not tagliata di manzo al rosmarino, they don't.”

“Don't they open at lunch time the earliest?” Sugawara asks as he leans back into his seat.

“...”

“...”

“Oh, right, I forgot about that.”

“Breakfast at the hotel it is.”

Meanwhile, no one notices Kageyama nibbling on a pack of salty crackers as he enjoys the view through the window – the beautiful streets, the people bustling around, the amazing architecture coming into view as they near the hotel.

But Matsukawa's right, they all come to an agreement that a shower, change of clothes and breakfast were first on the list of priorities.

Hell, Hanamaki doesn't make it past breakfast as he falls asleep again in his room. Damn jet lag. But no worries, the youngest thinks as he lays down for a nap, they got two months ahead of them.

 

_ And he's so visiting Vatican city tomorrow. _

 


	4. Stealing art through a lense

Tsukishima Kei had an eye for what people would call the true value of things. Or at least his brother claimed so. He wasn't all that convinced.

Back at his apartment, there are countless boxes of undeveloped films, Polaroids and SD cards full of various pictures. Tsukishima Kei was a photographer with a keen eye for composition, light, shadows and the moment. The moment when he decides to snap a picture is probably the most important skill he possesses. Or so people say.

He started out with taking snapshots of nature – scenery, flowers, skies, mountains, sunsets – won a few notable competitions with those, too, before he was asked to capture crowds of people – their motion. He became an even more notable name in the world of photography with those, a true talent, one would say, in his sense of what and when to immortalise with his lens. Then he captures a person with his lens, holding a red umbrella as they look at their phone, ignorant of the sun's rays spilling in lines next to them, or rather, behind them from his point of view, a strong contrast to the dark grey clouds covering the skies.

And that photo becomes his downfall as well as one of his most celebrated photos.

He doesn't know why, but ever since he took that photo, he had a strong feeling that he stole something. One day, he looks at his camera. Really looks at it. His tool for stealing _true_ art. Anyone could take a camera and snap a few photos, one needn't the IQ of Albert Einstein for that.

That feeling increases when he visits the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam one summer, standing in front of _Militia Company of District II under the Command of Captain Frans Banninck Cocq_ better known as _The Night Watch_ , oil on canvas, 363 cm × 437 cm, painted by Rembrandt van Rijn in the year 1642.

 

_He cannot look away from it._

 

That painting took a few blows in it's history – first, on January 13 th, 1911, when it was slashed through with a shoemaker's knife and then again on April 6  th, 1990, when someone thought it convenient to spray acid on it – but both times it was successfully restored, though there are a few traces of the knife, if one knows where to look.

 _He cannot do this_ , he thinks, _he cannot capture things like this with his lens_. All he can do is steal the soul of something already in existence. But this, this appears in the painter's soul first and there is no way to steal it unless it is created first, by their own hands.

The realisation hits him hard.

A few months later, he leaves his camera on his desk and goes out for a long walk.

He sits in a cafe, staring into nothing, with his coffee long gone cold, listening to the rain falling outside, occasionally aware of water droplets sliding down the large glass panel. There's a tree outside, leaves green, blurred by the glass and rain drops and it would make a good picture but he left his camera back in his apartment and he doesn't think it would look that good anyway. So he drops the matter and the skies darken even further as thunder rolls in; lightning flashing, ripping through the thick clouds before the rain intensifies and somehow it creates a harmonious sound that almost lulls him to sleep in a public place. It's been a while since he had a proper night's rest. This lethargy he's fallen into doesn't help much with his insomnia. Only serves to make it worse, at times.

 

It's that storm that brings forth a change in his thoughts, for a start, when Kuroo and Bokuto run through the doors, soaked to the bone, as obnoxiously happy as they were when they met before Tsukishima picked up motion capturing, and the only sane person among them, Akaashi, walks in a moment later, putting his umbrella in the umbrella stand before he turns and notices Tsukishima sitting by the window.

 

That unlikely encounter brings forth another change, this time in his life style and occupation, just a few days later.

 

Was his new occupation legal? Strictly by law – no, it wasn't. From some other point of view, why yes, yes it was.

 

He already stole things, souls and sceneries with his camera. Why not employ that talent of his into ridding a few false owners of their already stolen art and giving it back to their rightful ones? Kuroo, Bokuto and Akaashi didn't mind it. Not in the least.

If nothing else, it feels right. It sits with him. His mind is finally at ease and sleep returns to him the very night they completed the exchange of a portrait. It showed a young maiden sitting by the piano, all Tsukishima can tell about it that it was painted with strong contrasts. It was beautiful nonetheless.

What's actually hilarious about this whole ordeal is that they got commissions from governments and ordinary people alike. Well, as far as managers, investors, CEO's and whatnot's could count as ordinary people. There were also a few galleries and museums on their employer's list as well.

How the story goes?

Let's say one had a particular piece hanging on their living room wall since the beginning of time or maybe even longer than that and then something happened – a war broke out, a fire or it was simply nicked – and all of a sudden one is missing that particular piece. Then, miraculously, that same piece appears a few years later in the possession of another individual, who, let's put it this way, has made several attempts to acquire that piece from the owner in all the legal ways but never succeeded. That's when people usually contact either Akaashi or Kuroo and this little group has a job to do.

Of course, unless one can produce a valid proof that the particular painting is actually their property, the job in declined.

Nice and easy.

Tsukishima doesn't deal with that _legal_ part though; he's the main operative when it comes to getting the job done, along with Bokuto.

Get in, replace the painting, get out. Bring the original with. Return to rightful owner. Job done. Move along.

Best thing of all, it works. Most of the time. There are cases where nothing can be done, but one can't do what can't be done. They're not the _Mission Impossible_ crew. So yeah.

“Imagine if someone claimed this masterpiece to be theirs.” Tsukishima says with a smirk, as he stands in front of Michelangelo's _Pietá._

“This one? Really?” Akaashi raises an eyebrow, amused by the prospect. But he isn't a sculptor, he's a painter. So replacing this would be quite impossible to achieve. “That's a rather ambitious project, even for you.”

“No pain, no gain.” The bespectacled male shrugs. “Or so they say.”

“That's true.”

They both focus back on the marble statue, also damaged once – though, in this case, _assaulted_ would be the better fitting term – as a certain man brought a hammer and hammered the Madonna's arm off along with her nose. How brutal. Acts of that kind of violence and brutality really tug at people's heart stings.

“So, what's the objective this time?” Tsukishima asks as he takes off his suit jacket. It may be early morning, but it's getting uncomfortably warm already. He always wonders how Akaashi makes it in that suit of his.

“A private collector found letters from his great grandmother describing the painting. The letters are confirmed originals.” He says, still observing the sculpture. It really captivates on a spiritual level, even if Christianity isn't his religion. He feels slightly guilty, though, discussing not exactly legal business in front of the Madonna and her son.

_Maybe they should move a bit._

“Anyway”, he continues a few steps away from the sculpture, dragging Tsukishima along, who can't help but smirk at him, but he won't be an ass in a basilica of all places, so he lets him, “the painting is here in Rome, the address is going to be disclosed to us this evening as well as all the other information needed.”

“So we're free today?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent.”

It's been a while since they visited Rome. On official business or not. But after this job, there's gonna be time to kick back and relax. There's a nice place about 50 kilometres north of Rome, an estate perfect for some piece and quiet and relaxation.

“Want to join me for some coffee?” Akaashi then asks, looking at his wristwatch.

“I think I'll stay here for a bit longer.” Tsukishima says. “It's rare to find this place virtually empty.”

“Alright. I'll bring you one later.”

“Okay.”

With that Akaashi goes about his business, getting his phone from the inside of his jacket.

Tsukishima turns to the _Pietá_ again, not really surprised to find someone standing in front of it, but surprised the person keeps looking around every now and then. As if he's being followed. But Tsukishima can't spot anyone suspicious, and _he should know suspicious_ , and hopes he's not about to repeat the federal offence of destroying the sculpture and pull out a chisel or something.

He doesn't, to Tsukishima's relief and probably the worlds as well. He merely relaxes and spends the next ten minutes observing the marble piece with something close to awe. Oh, there's a sketch book in his hands. Interesting. So he's into art.

He then observes him opening the book, taking a pencil from the back pocket of his jeans and start sketching. He starts with a triangle, placing a few tactical circles from what Tsukishima can observe and after a while, all those lines and curves form a graphite _Pietá_.

“That's actually pretty good.” Akaashi tells him, startling both him and Tsukishima with his sudden appearance.

“Oh, sorry, it wasn't my intention to startle you so.” He then apologises, smiling gently, holding two paper cups of no doubt piping hot coffee. “Please accept this as my apology. It's coffee, black with a splash of milk.”

For the first time in his life, Tsukishima is uncertain as how to react to the scene unfolding in front of him. He's stuck between calling Akaashi a little shit because he gave his coffee to a perfect stranger and calling him a _smooth_ little shit for successfully gaining the perfect strangers attention with him accepting the offer, albeit looking fairy confused and... _relieved?_

“No, no, I just thought you were someone else.” The blue eyed man says, holding the cup. “I don't think I should be here.”

“How so?” Akaashi asks and something tells Tsukishima he should get his ass moving and find a way to smooth his way into that conversation. Maybe it's the look Akaashi gives him before turning his attention back to the man in front of him.

“I'm supposed to be on a vacation and I don't think my companions would look at me sketching as relaxing and taking things easy.” He replies smoothly, taking a sip.

“I take it you bailed on them, then?” Akaashi asks, pretty much having a picture of what might have happened or who that man is – occupation wise.

“Yeah, but I don't think it's gonna take them long to find me.”

“Really? How so?”

“They know why I agreed to come here.” He says as he glances at Michelangelo's masterpiece, gaining that serene look in his eyes that Tsukishima often saw in Akaashi's while he's busy doing his art thing. _Namely, painting reproductions for their jobs._ But no matter for what purpose he takes up his brush, Akaashi truly enjoys it. No doubt about it.

“There you are, Akaashi-san.” Tsukishima decides to humour him, as he takes a few lazy steps, as if he's had enough of running around after him. “Could have guessed you'd be here.”

“And you'd be right every time.”

“Tsukishima Kei”, he nods politely at the sketch artist, seeing how his hands were full, “I apologise for any inconvenience my colleague may have caused.” He sneers at Akaashi who just ignores it by making a show out of taking a sip.

“Kageyama Tobio, pleased to meet you.” Kageyama nods back, maneuvering around the cup to put his pencil back into his pocket to have a bit more freedom with his hands. “You bailed as well, Akaashi-san?”

“Guilty as accused.” The other smiles. “It's really rare to have an unobstructed look at the basilica.”

_Okay, so he'll go and call Akaashi the smoothest little shit in existence._

_Though,_ he can't help but wonder, _to what purpose?_

“May I have a look at that?” Akaashi then asks, glancing at the sketchbook. And now Tsukishima is really curious, because Akaashi never asks anyone to look at their sketchbooks. He only ever looks at them if they offer it to him first. But ask for it himself? Never happened before.

“Sure.” Kageyama says, handing it over.

Okay, so this one wasn't obsessed with keeping his holy sketchbook hidden from the world. That's a nice thing. He thinks.

But when Akaashi opens the thing, Tsukishima somehow pictures himself throwing it in a safe and locking it tight, because those sketches are-

“Amazing...” Akaashi says, both eyebrows going up without him even noticing. “This is a interesting approach...” He tilts his head at a sketch of another statue he comes across while flipping the pages. “You shade your sketches?”

“Occasionally, yes.” Kageyama says, looking at the page upside down. “It's a habit of mine I can't get rid off.”

“You should keep it. Brings out the easily missed details. Probably saves you time, too, if you're in a hurry.”

“Not in all cases. But yes, helps with this or that detail.”

Tsukishima, who rarely picked a pencil in order to draw, merely pretended he understood the seemingly vital importance of a good sketch. A well placed nod here and there certainly helped the pretense.

And while all three of them are busy with Kageyama's sketchbook, three other people stand close enough to observe their adorable kouhai talking to two rather handsome strangers but also far enough not to be spotted by him immediately. Not that he even pays attention, to be honest.

 

Hanamaki can't believe his own eyes.

 

“Well I'll be-”

“If you even think about cussing in this holy place, I shall slam dunk you right into the ninth circle of hell.” Matsukawa smoothly interrupts, talking around the straw between his lips, cooler than the iced tea he was drinking.

“-blessed, would you look at that?”

“My, my...” Sugawara smiles. “We lose sight of him for half an hour”,

“and he's got the attention of not one but _two_ hotties.” Hanamaki ends his thought. “I'm not sure what to think of it.”

“Those are some rather unholy thoughts for a place such as this.” Sugawara notes, looking at the ceiling.

“You're right. Perhaps we should continue this discussion outside.” Matsukawa agrees as they both grab Hanamaki by the arm and start walking towards the exit.

“I agree.” The pink haired man says. “Not like Kageyama's gonna disappear anywhere.”

“ _Or is he?_ ” He ads, earning a pinch form Matsukawa.

“Makki, please, control yourself for these two metres.”

“My deepest apologies.”

“Guys, be quiet, he's gonna hear us.”

Though that is not very likely as he's too invested in a conversation with those two to even notice two people carrying a third one out of the basilica.

 

_Hanamaki ends up biting his own cheek so not to explode._

_What an unexpected turn of events._

_That kid really is something._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.  
> Priest: What did you do this time?  
> Me: I wrote a gay fiction with gay characters discussing theft in front of the Pietá.  
> Priest: No forgiveness for you, you filthy sinner. Only hell fire.  
> Me: *puts on shades*  
> Me: Worth it.
> 
> But seriously I am genuinely worried for my soul; it shall burn in hell fires eternal for this.


	5. A start of something new

“Care to explain what _that_ was all about?” Tsukishima asks as he and Akaashi part ways with Kageyama.

“Oh, you know me”, the messy haired painter smiles as he folds and pockets a sketch Kageyama was so generous to give him carefully into the inner pocket of his jacket, “can't resist charming little things.”

“Are you referring to him or his sketches?”

“Both.”

“You devil.”

“Thankfully we're in a church.”

“Not that it has any effect on you.”

“Oh well...”

“Tsk, tsk, Akaashi-san, what will Bokuto say to this behaviour of yours?”

“ _Do you want him in wrapping paper or in a box?_ ”

“...no lie there.”

“What, you don't find him charming?” Akaashi raises an eyebrow in amusement as they make their way towards the exit. Akaashi still owes him his coffee.

“I think he's too much of a goodie two shoes for me.” The other replies coolly as they exit the basilica, greeted by a crowded square and a glaring sun.

“A goodie two shoes doesn't bail on his companions to seek out what he wants.” Akaashi calmly remarks.

Tsukishima rolls his eyes and they drop the matter.

“You still owe me coffee."

“Ah, yes, do pardon my obliviousness.”

“Whatever. Just don't turn into a love sick puppy with a massive crush on someone you just met. That's more Bokuto's thing to do.”

Akaashi laughs at that.

“Come on, I want to read the newspaper and lets get you that coffee.”

“ _Which you so conveniently gave to Kageyama._ ”

“You won't let me off so soon, will you?”

“Absolutely not.”

“What if I treat you to some strawberry short cake?” Akaashi offers with a sweet smile.

“You'll have to try a bit harder than that.”

“Fair enough.”

“I'm surprised you didn't get a number, though.” Tsukishima says as they walk down the _Piazza San Pietro._

“There's no need to rush that much. I think this isn't the last I've seen of him.”

“I'm really starting to fret for his sake.”

“Oh, you...”

“I can't believe I forgot how big this place is...” Tsukishima says as he looks around while they walk. “Bernardi-”

“ _Bernini_ ”, Akaashi corrects in a soft voice,

“ _Bernini_ ”, Tsukishima repeats, “sure out done himself with this project.”

“You need space for around 140 saints to fit.”

“The obelisk is a nice touch though.”

“The Emperor Augustus had the obelisk moved to the Julian Forum of Alexandria, where it stood until 37 AD, I think, when Caligula, another Roman emperor, ordered the forum demolished and the obelisk transferred to Rome. He had it placed on the spina which ran along the centre of the Circus of Nero, where it would preside over Nero's countless brutal games and Christian executions. It was moved here in 1586 by the engineer-architect Domenico Fontana under the direction of Pope Sixtus V. It's the only obelisk in Rome that has not toppled since ancient Roman times. During the Middle Ages, there was a gilt ball on top of the obelisk that was believed to contain the ashes of Julius Caesar. Fontana later removed the ancient metal ball and found only dust. Later someone wrote that the ball was actually solid. Though Bernini had no influence in the erection of the obelisk, he did use it as the centerpiece of this piazza, and added the Chigi arms to the top in honor of his patron, Alexander VII.”

“Thank you for the history lesson, professor.” Tsukishima dead-pans.

“You replace priceless paintings in your current occupation drawn by the most notable names in art history and yet you go and call Bernini Bernardi.” Akaashi gives him a pointed look. “Should I get you one of those art books for crash courses?”

“Very funny.”

“Just asking.”

“I know what I need to know, Akaashi-san, about _paintings_.” He retorts, fighting an amused grin from forming. “Bernini is an architect.”

“Also a sculptor.”

“I don't replace sculptures, do I?”

“No.”

“Then I believe Bernini will find it in his heart to forgive me.”

“You _obviously_ don't know artists.”

“If you're referring to their occasional lunacy, I dare say you're the one who's missing out.”

“Touché.”

“So what did he do?”

“Bernini? Oh, the usual. He had an affair with a married woman, then that woman had an affair with his brother and when he found out, he chased his brother down the streets in an attempt to kill him, sending a servant to rearrange his mistresses face with a razor. Both his servant and his mistress ended up in jail, though, he for assault and she for adultery.”

“Poetic irony.”

“Indeed it is.”

 

Back in the basilica, Kageyama decides to finish that sketch while he has the chance. He is just adding the finishing details as he feels two hands on his shoulders.

“Got you.” Sugawara smiles at him, peeking at the sketch. “Amazing as ever.”

“Couldn't resist for one day, could you?” Matsukawa ruffles his hair as he does the same. “Try shading this part here, but with the light coming in from this angle.”

“Makki-san isn't with you?”

“He said he had something to do.” Sugawara says, hoping to heavens he won't do something disastrously stupid at that.

“Anything else you want as your sketching model?” Matsukawa asks, looking around.

“No, I'm done for today.” Kageyama closes his sketchbook. “I met someone.” He then informs them as they turn to leave.

“Did you now?”

“How did that go?”

Both Matsukawa and Sugawara play it cool, something Hanamaki would be physically incapable of.

“Well, actually two of them.” He then corrects himself. “Akaashi-san and Tsukishima-san. I gave Akaashi-san one of my sketches, he seemed interested in them.”

“How thoughtful of you.”

“How about we visit the old port of Ostia?” Sugawara suggests, scrolling down his tablet. “It's been a while since we last went there.”

“I wouldn't mind getting out this heat for a while. Neither would Makki.”

“Are those mosaics still under restoration?”

“I'm not sure, to be honest.”

“I think they are done with that. Not sure if they allow visitors in that part, though.”

“Guess we'll have to go and check for ourselves.”

“Also, there's a concert at Auditorium Parco around 10 this evening, wanna join us?” Matsukawa asks Kageyama, more out of courtesy than actually expecting him to say yes.

“I don't mind.” He then says, to the surprise of them both. “Could we make a trip to San Marino one of these days, too?”

“Anything you want.” The two of them nearly squawk out at the same time.

“Hey guys!” Hanamaki arrives, all smiles when he spots Kageyama, getting a warning look from Matsukawa and Sugawara. “Did you get to see your precious piece?”

“Yes.”

“That's great. What's the plan then?” He turns to Matsukawa, all ear.

“We're going to Ostia.”

“Great! I've been dying to take a dip in the sea.”

“It's an archaeological site and harbour, not a beach.”

“I can always trip over thin air and fall into it.” Hanamaki shrugs. “We should definitely find a beach one of these days.”

“We can do that tomorrow."

“I'm driving.”

“No, you're not.”

“Why?”

“You get distracted easily.” Matsukawa says, watching him get distracted by the sketchbook in Kageyama's hands.

“Huh? What? Oh, yeah.” He says but keeps staring at the newest sketch. “Wow, you're really getting better by the day. Ever thought about picking up sculpting?”

“Not really.” The youngest says, tilting his head.

“Maybe you should.”

“Makki-san, it's one thing to draw and another to chisel away at a block of stone.”

“I'm sure you'd pull it off, though.”

“I'll think about it.” Kageyama then says, dropping the matter as he takes his book back.

“Hey Makki.” Sugawara speaks up, beckoning him with his finger when he turns around. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“Kageyama-kun here agreed to visit the concert with us tonight.”

“He did?” The pink haired man is honestly taken aback by that information. “How? Why? Did you blackmail him? What did you blackmail him with, I wanna know.”

“Matsukawa just asked him. And he wants to visit San Marino, too.”

“Forget the beach, we're off to San Marino then.”

“Hold your horses, we can do everything without rushing, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. So how about we find a beach and then stay the night in San Marino?”

“Oi, you two”, Matsukawa shouts, “we're leaving.”

“Shi-” Hanamaki bites his tongue, hurrying with Sugawara to catch up. “Wait up!”

They stop for lunch before driving to the coast where the _Ostia Antica_ stands in all its glory and history. It's a welcome refreshment from the glorious but really hot Rome and Vatican City. Hanamaki fails to trip over thin air and fall into the harbour, but he survives. They laze around inside the theatre, admire the mosaics of the bath house, take a stroll down _Via delle Tombe_ and of course Matsukawa and Hanamaki have to make a show in the public _latrinae_ , the toilets, of all places, but they wouldn't be them if they didn't, honestly.

They end up discussing public toilets, hygiene, water systems and aqueducts of ancient Rome on their way back. Kageyama falls asleep and by the time they reach their hotel, he's had a great nap before dinner.

Sugawara only then notices he's gotten himself a slight sunburn and Hanamaki uses that chance to point out that he offered him to bring along a _fire extinguisher_ but that only landed him an aloe crème square in the face.

“If we get split up, _try_ not to get arrested.” Sugawara says, giving Hanamaki a look.

“They shouldn't have said party hard if they didn't mean it.” The guilty one merely grinned.

“...right. Anyway, send a message here and there and we'll meet up at the entrance once we're ready to go.”

“Okay.” They all agree and head through the doors.

 _The concert actually isn't that bad_ , Kageyama thinks, leaning against the nearest wall after he got separated from everyone within a record time of under two minutes. It's crowded, but not too crowded, per say, one can spot the floor here and there if one tries. The current DJ's taste in music is ...okay, he guesses, nothing sounding like someone attacked a metal fence with a chainsaw while stepping on a cat. Repeatedly.

He actually recognises one or two, having head them on the radio once, though here they were in a remix, but he didn't exactly come to a classical music evening. It was...nice, seeing so many people in one place, dancing and having fun – Kageyama himself wasn't one for the modern beat all that much – but even he caught himself beating his fingers against his leg to the beat of a song he found he rather liked. Since it was also a remix, he doubted he'd find it anytime soon, seeing that he didn't know the original title to it. Maybe he could ask Hanamaki later.

Just after midnight, the heat of the day finally dies down, letting people breathe more easily. He decides to get out, noting it was a great choice of action because he stepped outside the theatre just when a light breeze picked up. He didn't even notice how sweaty he had become in there, but out here, it was divine. How people managed to move around those seats to dance was a mystery to him, seeing how he had trouble moving past people just to get away from the crowd.

He leaned against a brick wall, trying to wipe his forehead until he gave up and used the lower half of his shirt as a make-shift towel. He was pretty sure there was a lavatory somewhere to wash his face, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember where it is.

He eventually found one, thank heavens, but he was also – lost.

 _And that is why_ he usually avoided going to these kinds of concerts. He just didn't fit in.

“You lost, too?” He then hears someone from the hallway, and it's a familiar voice.

“Tsukishima-san?”

“One and only.” The bespectacled man says, leaned against the wall, with the first two buttons of his dark shirt unbuttoned. He had a pair of headphones around his neck.

“Aren't you hot under those?” Kageyama points to the headphones, earning a smirk from Tsukishima.

“They're a hell to wear.”

“But you do it anyway.”

“But I do it anyway.” He confirms, removing himself from the wall.

“How about we join forces and try to find our way back?”

“I'm in.”

“And here I thought you were a goodie two shoes.”

“You did?” Kageyama asks, surprised.

“What, you don't get that often?”

“No, people usually think I'm out to get them.”

Tsukishima took a good look at him. “Nah, can't see it.”

“Why thank you.” Kageyama laughs as they turn a corner, getting to a slightly more familiar area just outside the concert hall.

 

“ _Say, Kageyama-san”, Tsukishima begins as they near the entrance gates, not sure why, but there he is, asking, and there he is, listening to his ideas, “what if you bail once more?”_

 


	6. On the roof

Kageyama's visibly in a turmoil when he asks that. Maybe a little more persuasion on Tsukishima's side is in order.

“It's okay, I won't take you far.” Tsukishima says, taking a step forward, hands in pockets, leaning a bit forward. “I know this place like the back of my hand.”

“Weren't you lost not that long ago?” Kageyama asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No.” Comes the cool reply. “But I believe that sounded better than me saying I spotted you as you came out and kinda guessed you'd get lost, don't you think?”

“So, what? You're stalking me?”

“Not really.” Damn, this guy is tougher than he looks. “I was just surprised to see you here of all places.”

“Do I really look _that_ timid to you?”

The taller man then eyes him up before looking up into those blue orbs.

“Maybe?” Tsukishima smiles, “you don't really strike me as someone who frequents concerts.”

“You hardly know me.” Kageyama speaks a bit softer without even realising it.

“We could change that, if you wish.”

“I...”

“Come on, it's just up there.” He extends his hand to him, palm up. “On the roof. I'll bring you back in no time.”

“...why not?” He complies, taking his hand.

“This way, please.” Tsukishima says as they make their way to one of the three domes. Kageyama does wonder who the hell are they even going to get up there, but when he's seated on one of the domes, enjoying the night breeze, on his left he can see the ruins of _Villa Romana dell' Auditorium_ , right in front are the _Viale Pilsudski_ and some buildings,one belonging to Terravision, if he's not mistaken, and on the right, he can see the lights of the stadium.

“ _Stadio Flaminio._ ” Tsukishima says, pointing out to it. “I think there's a game still going on.”

“This late?” Kageyama tilts his head.

“Not an official one, but when it's this hot, people stay up later and sometimes they open it for amateurs and fans. As long as you have proper shoes, it's fine.”

“You been there?”

“I watched a game once. Didn't have anything better to do and sleeping was impossible.”

“Makes sense.”

“You can always roam around the bigger squares or get lost in the back alleys.”

“Do as the Romans do?”

“Exactly.”

They watch the cars pass, enjoying the breeze. The silence between them isn't awkward at all, Tsukishima notes as he glances his way. Kageyama has his eyes closed, head tilted back. Tsukishima's fingers twitch a bit and he has to look at them, scowling slight as he rubs them together. What the heck?

“You alone here?” Kageyama asks, leaning his head on the top of his knees as he pulls them up, distracting him from the tingling feeling in his digits.

“I believe Akaashi-san is somewhere around.” Tsukishima glances at him before looking at the city lights and cars rushing about. “He likes these kinds of concerts. Though, I bet you two would have quite the number of topics to cover.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” He leans back on his hands. “He may not look like it, but he could talk about art history for hours. Including architecture and sculptures.” He ads the last bit pointedly.

“I'm sure we would”, Kageyama says, “but I'm supposed to be on vacation and lay off the whole thing.”

“Your companions brought you to the worlds biggest art gallery and museum to get you away from it? Interesting approach.” The blond man laughs.

“That's not all.” Kageyama smiles. “I get to peek into the Coliseum during it's restoration.”

“Oh?”

“Makki-san got us two passes.” Kageyama explains, closing his eyes, “I worked on a miniature before we left and was forced to leave it behind unfinished. I guess he felt guilty about it or something.”

“You must love your work a lot.”

“I do. The stinging of my eyes after a few hours of staring through a magnifying glass with bright light, not so much, but I enjoy bringing out the colours out as they used to be. Of course, I have to get rid of a nice layer of dust, grime, mould and whatnot but once that's done, the real fun begins.”

“...do you ever draw your own thing?” Tsukishima asks, thinking of the _Night watch_. Man that painting really has an impact on him.

“Sometimes.”

“You do?” Tsukishima raises a brow.

“Yeah. Nothing too fancy, though, scenery, still life, things like that. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What do you do in the art business?”

“I used to be in photography.” Tsukishima says before he can stop himself. “Now, I help Akaashi-san out. He's the brush master, though, I just bring the painting.”

“So he's a restaurateur, too?” Kageyama lifts his head at the news.

“Yeah.” Sure. Let's go with that.

Though, the way this conversation is going, maybe he should have texted Akaashi. He wonders why he didn't.

“Wait...Photography, you say...Weren't you the one who took that picture? The one with the red umbrella?” Kageyama tilts his head at him, as if trying to place him somewhere. “You're _that_ Tsukishima Kei?”

“You know of it?” That is a surprise; he didn't think he'd be interested in photography. But Kageyama's widen in what seems to be a pleasant surprise.

“Of course I do. I really liked that one. Would you mind if I made it a painting?” He turns to him, voice loud.

“I would.” Tsukishima says curtly and Kageyama blinks.

“Oh...” Crap, he got too excited. Makki warned him about this. “Alright.” He ads in a softer tone.

They sit there, each in their own thoughts, for a few minutes until Tsukishima sighs audibly, catching Kageyama's attention.

“I'm sorry for my tone.” Tsukishima apologises softly, still avoiding his gaze, “I just don't particularly like that one.”

“Why not?”

“I...” is he really going to talk about that with someone he hardly knew?

“I kinda burned out after that one.” He says, because what the hell. Might as well tell someone.

“I don't know...after I took that picture, everything kinda fell apart. Nothing was good enough any more, nothing notable enough or even interesting to take a picture of. So I kinda left it like that. Next thing I know, I'm helping out Akaashi-san with his stuff and it's kinda my new thing now.”

“...do you think you'll go back to photography?” Kageyama can't help but ask, realising too late what he just asked, “I mean, not that I'm rushing you or talking you into it, I just think those photos were amazing. You really have a keen eye for composition.”

Tsukishima doesn't know what to say. Hell, he doesn't even know what to think of it first. This certainly _did not_ go the way he saw it when he asked him up here. Although why he did _that_ , was also a mystery now.

“I-”

And before he can compose himself, the phone in Kageyama's pocket starts both buzzing and ringing, some generic tune playing as he reached for it in his pocket.

“Y-yes?” He stutters for some reason, answering the call. “Oh, I'm...uh...no, still on the grounds.” As far as the roof of the hall can be classified as _ground_.

Tsukishima can't help but snort at the face he makes.

“What? Okay, entrance gate, sure. See you there.”

“Your entourage, my liege?” Tsukishima teases as he gets up as well, dusting his pants. Kageyama merely shoots him a somewhat dirty look.

“When the hell did it get so late?” Kageyama mutters glancing at the screen.

“Shall I escort you back?” Tsukishima offers, as courteous as he was before they got here, but Kageyama's a bit suspicious about that smirk of his.

“Let's just go.”

“Makki, hold it in.” Matsukawa says, though he also has a stupid smirk plastered on his face as Kageyama shows up with a familiar face.

“Suga, please, take over.” Hanamaki squeaks out, massaging his temples. “I don't think I'll make it.”

“God, you two, grow up.” Sugawara says but that wide grin indicates that he needs to grow up, too. “He's perfectly able to make his own decisions.”

“ _And I completely agree with this one._ ”

“Shush.”

A few metres away, Tsukishima raises an eyebrow at the trio. “Are they waiting for you?” He nods in their direction.

“Yeah.” Kageyama says but then turns around and his face contorts a bit in worry. “Seems like Makki-san has a stomach ache.”

_Said Makki-san is trying really hard not to start fangirling and shouting his approval at them by taking deep breaths and crouching, but he's breaking._

“Is he going to be alright?”

“He's usually fine after a soda, so I think he will.”

“Alright.”

“So, uhm...” Kageyama stumbles over his words a bit, not exactly sure where he was going with this.

“You know, there's a saying I picked up around here.” Tsukishima jumps in, easing the situation. “If we meet for the third time, I'll take you out for coffee.”

That does the trick and Kageyama smiles wide before he can stop himself. Well, it is pretty ridiculous, but hey, it works.

“I'll take your word on that.”

“I hope you do.” Tsukishima says as he turns to leave. “Good night.”

“Night.” He says as they part ways but can't resist stealing a glance back at him before he hurries to Matsukawa and the others. Hanamaki seems to be in an even worse shape than he was five minutes ago.

“Is he alright?”

“Doubt it.” Matsukawa says, shaking his head.

“ _I'm fine._ ” He squeaks.

“Why don't we head back?” Sugawara's grin grows even wider as he guides Kageyama by the shoulders. “I had enough of partying for this evening.”

“So did you get a number?” Hanamaki pushes Sugawara out of the way as he wraps an arm around his shoulders.

“Makki!”

“Huh? A number? No.” Kageyama says and Hanamaki almost trips.

“What?” He nearly shrieks. Now that was a blow.

“I got an invite to coffee if we meet again. Some saying he picked up here.”

“Ah, the next time you two meet is gonna be the third one. That saying?” Matsukawa asks. The youngest nods. “Knowing your luck, that's gonna be pretty soon.”

“Makki-san”, Kageyama turns to Hanamaki as they walk down the street, “remember that umbrella photograph I showed you once?”

“Umbrella? The red one with that cool cloud show behind the person?”

“Yes. That one. He took that picture.”

“No way.” Hanamaki's eyes grow wide. “He? But didn't he retire from all that or something?”

“What's that gotta do with anything?” Sugawara sighs.

“No, no. I mean, it's been a while since his last exhibit. Well, it's nice he's still kicking.” He concludes.

“Oh, god, Hanamaki, seriously.” Sugawara shoots him a horrified look. “What the hell?”

“I'm just saying.” He shrugs.

“How about you stop for today?”

“Yeah, you're right. I need some sleep. That concert was awesome.”

“Though I do hope you get that coffee.” He smiles at Kageyama.

“Yeah, I do too.” He says.

Somewhere near the _Piazza Navona_ doors to an apartment open as quietly as it goes, but there is no need for all that since Akaashi is awake and enjoying some ice cream in the living room, sitting by the table with his laptop running.

“Well...” He smiles, “I'm guessing you had fun.”

“Good morning to you, too.” Tsukishima says as he gets rid of his shoes, sitting down on the sofa as he walk in the living room. “Did Bokuto call?”

“Yes, we just got off the net.”

“So”, Akaashi leans back in his chair, “how was it?”

“How was what?” He sighs, leaning into the sofa.

“Your little escapade with Kageyama-kun.”

“Oh, that.”

“Yes, that.”

“We sat on the roof of the concert hall and discussed things. You.”

“I'm flattered.”

“ _...and my photography._ ”

Now that got his attention.

“Not just anyone can get you talking about it.” Akaashi muses, amusement smouldering in his eyes.

“He likes that one.” Tsukishima opens his eyes to stare a bit at the ceiling. “The damn red umbrella...”

“A lot of people like that one.” Akaashi states carefully. “Did you tell him about it.”

“Not really.” He says, rubbing his eyes under his glasses.“He was rather tactful about the subject.”

“...what happened?”

“He asked for my permission to transfer it onto canvas. I said no. He dropped the subject. I apologised. Then he asked if I planned on going back to photography, but _not that he wants to talk me into it but because it was awesome_ , end quote.”

“You? Apologised?” Akaashi blinks at him, almost missing his mouth and poking himself with the next scoop of ice cream in the cheek. “Miracles do happen here.”

“Shut up.”

“Dear me, Tsukishima, if I didn't know you better, I'd say you rather like him.”

“As if.” Tsukishima snorts.

“No? I wouldn't be so sure.” He says as he gets up to place the bowl and spoon in the sink before he calls it a nigh, or morning.

“Oh, please, enlighten me on that one.”

“Because no one goes all out to get someone somewhere private like you did tonight, Tsukishima-kun.” He smiles at him leaning over the sofa to meet his eyes. “And no one can fake that level of chemistry you two have.”

“Please, I literally met him this morning.”

“So?”

“I'm going to bed.” He says, standing up. “See you later.”

“Pleasant dreams.” Akaashi says, proceeding to the kitchen before he retreats to his own room.

 

_There's a lot to go through when he gets up, might as well get some sleep before that._

 


	7. Let's get started, shall we?

Akaashi gets up pretty late for his standards that day. His laptop is still running, various messaging applications signalling new messages that needed to be read. He makes himself a cup of coffee after the usual morning routine, sits at the table and begins sorting out the mail by priority.

A brow curves up as the mail with the crucial information on the job they came to Rome for. And Bokuto is scheduled to arrive just the day before. Perfect. Tsukishima won't have to deal with all that stress on his own.

Speaking of whom, he should check on him.

Whatever had gone on between them last night, sure made an impact on him, Akaashi thinks as he peeks into his room and finds him sleeping soundly. Might as well let him. He needs his rest.

 

“ _He did what?”_ Bokuto shouts over the phone. Luckily, Akaashi already anticipated that and had his phone on the table, next to the laptop. Without the speakers on.

“You heard me.”

“ _Akaashi, love, you know I trust you on everything going on here, but don't you think you're maybe rushing him here?”_

“A year and a half is more than enough in his case.” He states flatly, scrolling through some news. “Besides, you should have seen him last night. I think this might be good for him.”

“ _...if you say so. Just...”_

“I know, Bokuto. I know.” Akaashi sighs. “Speaking of which, where's Kuroo?”

“ _He said he had some business in Prague.”_

“Alright. You're here then tomorrow?”

“ _Of course. Can't wait to see you, Keiji. It's been ages.”_

“I miss you, too.” Akaashi says softly. “Bring me something.”

“ _What? I'm not enough?”_

“No.”

“ _Fine. I'll bring something for you.”_

“Thank you.”

“ _I'll call later tonight, okay?”_

“Okay. Have a nice day, Bokuto-san.”

“ _Oh come on. Not even one Koutarou today?”_

“You'll get one when you get here.”

“ _...”_

“Bokuto-san.”

“ _..."_

“...Koutarou.”

“ _Yes, Keiji?”_

 

“See you tomorrow.” He says and ends the connection. So Bokuto got one on him, but that's about all the leeway he's gonna get until he lands tomorrow.

He searches for the mail he got, scanning over it once more before he gets up to search for a book. He finds it some ten minutes later, under the couch, not even wanting to know how it ended there of all places. The book contains a few blueprints of more notable buildings made by the end of the 16th century. There's bound to be some alterations after some 500 years but this is the closes he can get to anything without raising any suspicions.

Not that it's a problem even if he gets into the interrogation cycle – his demeanour and poker face to the job for him – it's that he's way too busy to be dealing with administration. Of any kind. Double amount of paperwork for him since he's also a well known face in the restoration field. Interrogating around for a detailed blueprint of a building in which a top notch exhibition is displayed is not something he wants to explain to the authorities.

By the time he hears Kei move around the place, he's got the usual preparations done. Whatever else they might need is something Kei and Bokuto will have to think of as they go. He's in the middle of encrypting a reply to the mail when Kei finally shows up with a coffee mug in his hand.

 

“Morning, sleeping beauty.”

“Morning, mother Gothel.” Kei mutters as he takes a sip.

“Wasn't mother Gothel in Rapunzel and not Sleeping Beauty?” Akaashi raises a brow at him.

Kei gives him a good look before he says anything.

“You're right. You do look more like Maleficent. My sincerest apologies.”

Akaashi rolls his eyes as Kei proceeds to occupy the couch once more, picking up the news paper from the counter.

 

“Bokuto-san will be here tomorrow.” The messy haired man says, typing away at the laptop. “I got everything we need for the job.”

 

“When do we start?”

“The exhibition closes in two days. The instruction says after 11 pm the day after tomorrow. The painting will be on the second floor in a blue art carrying case 18 x 24 inches with a white tag on in the lower left corner.”

“How wonderfully detailed.”

“There will be two guards on each floor, making tours every fifteen minutes.”

“That's manageable. Alarms?”

“Only in the attic. I suggest you go in from the back alley, there's a window on the second floor that can be opened. Other than the steep roof of the neighbouring building, there is no way to approach it. No one can see you come in from there unless they know you're coming.”

“What is this? A beginners course?”

“The owner wants that painting as soon as possible. Some tragic family story or the other. Didn't pay all that much attention.”

“Why is Bokuto even coming here then?”

“Most likely to see my face.”

Tsukishima agreed to that silently, focused on the newspaper.

 

The surprise Tsukishima feels when he turns the page is so evident, even Akaashi raises a brow at him.

“What the...?” He mutters, not even aware he's speaking out loud.

“What is it?” The other raises from his seat, looking over his shoulder as he leans on the back of the sofa.

Tsukishima merely raises the newspaper a bit to reveal a small photo of a rather familiar face.

“Oh?” Akaashi can't help but smirk at the title, small article and Tsukishima's reaction.

“He wasn't kidding...” The blond male quickly scans the small article.

“About what?”

“He said one of his friends, guardians, whatever they are, got him access to the restoration of the Colosseum. I though he was pulling my leg.”

“He has access to that place? Let me see.” Akaashi takes the newspaper form him, reading the article. “Well, colour me impressed. I though that face was familiar.”

“You don't say.” Tsukishima scowls lightly. Though Akaashi can't exactly tell if Tsukishima himself is aware of that.

“I remember now. He was with Iwaizumi and Oikawa in Paris three years ago. Some exhibition of Oikawa's or the other. I only saw him once in passing, though, that's why I couldn't place him right away. My, my...so that is the person he so boasts about. Not without grounds, I can tell you that.”

“Akaashi, you're starting to talk to yourself again.”

“What? Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to.” The older apologises, returning the paper to Tsukishima. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have some planning to do.”

“Not at all.”

Tsukishima then finishes the rest of the paper, noting that it will be a pleasant 27°C as the day progresses with a minimum chance of a shower. As long as it doesn't just stir the dust of the streets and leaves everyone with the feeling of breathing under a plastic bag or, even worse, a wet sponge. The horror. A light breakfast later, Tsukishima changes into something comfortable to walk in in the heat.

“The address is in your phone if you're going to inspect the surroundings.” Akaashi adds as he walks towards the doors. “Not that you can miss any of the pamphlets on your way.”

 

“Uh-uh. Later.”

And he's out the door.

 

_Akaashi can't help but laugh._

 


	8. Makki in charge

“Makki-san, you really didn't have to miss the beach for this.” Kageyama says as they make their way up the first platform.

“Oh, yes, I had to.” Hanamaki says, not looking all too convinced in his own words. Sure, a beach day on this hellish day would have been nice, but it's his own fault for getting into this predicament. He's the one who got them a pass up the Colosseum. Also, the look on Kageyama's face was priceless when he got the phone call that got them here, so the day wasn't that lost.

_But, seriously, it could have been a little less hellish._

“What the-” He starts but is sprayed the moment he gets both feet up the platform.

“ _Do not worry, it is just water._ ” One of the restaurateurs say in English with a heavy Italian accent before he shows them where they should go. “ _Follow this path to the end and there you will get instructions._ ”

They spend the morning and early afternoon on the platform, with Hanamaki making himself as useful as he can be. He even gets a sponge and spends half an hour tapping against the stone with it. They are using water mist to get off the layers of dirt from the stone, which is great, since there is no need for corrosive chemicals.

“Uh, Kageyama, is this supposed to be this white?” He asks as the younger walks over to him.

“Yes. That's the original colour of the stone.” He says looking closely at it. “Looks good, Makki-san.”

“Why thank you.” And thank god he didn't scrape off anything he wasn't supposed to. He isn't sure who would have jumped at his neck first – the Italian authorities, Kageyama, Matsukawa, Suga or Oikawa, even though the last one was miles and miles away. Or maybe even the old Roman gods. One can never know.

“This is far more work that I thought it would be.” Hanamaki says later, as he finally gets the helmet off his head, shoulders aching slight from all the careful tapping he ended up doing.

“It's actually easier than trying to get the grime out of a fold with a toothpick and cotton wad.” Kageyama informs him, a bit red in the face.

“Is that a sunburn?” The pink haired male asks, lightly touching the red skin on his face. Kageyama test pokes a few times himself.

“No? It doesn't sting. I used the SPF 50 crème before we got out the room.”

“Did you apply it later on?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I suggest we get some shade and something preferably iced.”

So the red in his face seemed to be the excitement or something that later on withdrew from his face, thankfully, since Hanamaki didn't want to deal with stares of disapproval from Mattsun and Suga. They're already on his case for other things, he doesn't need another reason to get them pissy. Anyhow, the day really is something, he didn't miss the beach all too much and if he were actually honest here, he kinda went for the chance of Kageyama stumbling upon _a certain someone_ or possibly two of them and, well, hanging around a beach a few miles away from Rome is not gonna help the odds. Mattsun may or may not have read him before they went their separate ways, but he'll risk it. He can play nice and slow and subtle.

 

“So, what do you think of Tsukishima?” He smiles at Kageyama as they sit down in a park, sipping at the take out coffee they brought with them.

_So much for his slow and subtle play._

“He's...tall.” Is the response he gets and he nearly squeals. Kageyama registering anything about another human being is a effin jackpot. Just better.

“He's also got nice hands.” Kageyama ads, tilting his head, getting that concentrated look when he's trying to recall a detail. “I think they're bigger than mine.” He looks at his own palm before he turns it to inspect the other side. “He'd be good at sculpting, I guess. Or anything where he can use his hands.”

_Hanamaki's got an idea who he could use those hands on as well but let's not get perverse here._

_He also gets a clue as to why Suga and Mattsun hadn't said a word at his plan to split up, because he feels the need to slap himself right then and there, but refrains so not to shock the kid. Purgatory, this kid is._

“It's nice to see you interested in someone.” He then lets it slip, unthinkingly.

Kageyama merely blinks at him, surprised. “How's that?”

“I mean, all you've been up to for the past five years is college, classes, more classes, follow Oikawa around for even more classes and now you're hauled up in the studio all day long. There's nothing wrong with that, if you like it, but I thought that maybe you'd want to try some other things.”

Which brings forth another thought. What if Kageyama had no affinities to bond to people like everyone else? What if he was aromantic? Or asexual? Or both? Oh, boy. Shit, maybe he rushed things he shouldn't have. Oh the humanity, maybe he should have listened to Mattsun-

“I haven't really thought of it that way.” Kageyama says after a shot pause, breaking the string of panic thought Makki fell into. “You're right about that, but I couldn't exactly let loose with classes and such. There were people who were in this since they were five or six years old, so I just focused on studies. I didn't want to lag behind since I could pick up most of it pretty fast. It was fun, too.”

“I guess I just didn't need more than that.” He concludes, sipping at his drink, looking somewhere in the distance.

“But it's nice. To know someone new. I mean, I like spending time with Matsukawa-senpai and Suga-san, and hanging out with you and Iwaizumi-san and Oikawa showed me really interesting things, but it feels good to...have someone on my own?” The last sentence comes out and he's confused himself with it and Makki has to laugh at it.

“What am I saying? I barely know this person...”

“No, no, that's perfectly fine.” Hanamaki nods his head. “Even if you don't know someone as you know us, which is perfectly normal, considering you know us for five years, I think it's a good thing that you want to get to know them better. That's how relationships are formed. The same thing happened to us, it's just that you've become so accustomed to us that you might have forgotten it.”

“You can take things as you like. Fast, slow, something in between. Whatever feels good for you. I kinda tore you from your work because I felt guilty that you dedicated your whole self to this without having a proper chance of experiencing other stuff. Relationships, friends, family...stuff like that.”

 

And it's true. He's seen this kid rush about, run, chase, not stop for a second, always having to focus on work, work, _work_ , and he obviously liked it all, but... in the end, he was alone. After leaving the studio, he's alone. They all are family to him, yes, but he needs his circle of people, someone he could fight with, laugh with, share secrets and end up in jail (okay, that's more Hanamaki's thing) with and being in that studio and fly around the world would only get him so far. Mostly because he was on a tight schedule with those things and there was little room for him to actually bond with people enough to give them a title of friends or the sort.

 

So, yeah, when he saw him in the basilica the other day, talking to two complete _hotties_ on his own, he was ready to light a bonfire to whatever Christian saint available right then and there. _If that's a thing they do around here. He'll have to consult Issei for that._

 

There's another pause, _longer this time_ , between them, as they're both busy with their thoughts.

“Thank you, Makki-san.” Kageyama says first, snapping him out of his thoughts. “I think this vacation will do me good.”

“You're welcome.” He smiles warmly at him.

“So how do you find that other guy?” He then asks as they make their way back, throwing the empty plastic cups into the nearest bin.

_He really can't help himself._

“Akaashi-san? I think he's nice. Or so he seems.”

“What way?”

“He kinda reminds me of Matsukawa-senpai in a way. There's something about him that makes me think there's more to him than he lets on.”

 

_Aw, yis, coming here was definitely the best idea he had._

 

_Two mystery hotties and Kageyama's interest piqued._

 

_What a vacation this might end up being._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohohoho, Makki, you don't even know. hue hue
> 
> Two chappies this time, enjoy! :)


	9. And then night falls

Bokuto arrives in Rome the following day and Tsukishima thinks he'll have to move out asap. Akaashi gets all kinds of mushy around him and that is not something Tsukishima wants to see, hear or god forbid, walk in on. Like, ever.

Thankfully, the keep it simple this time. A soft look and a small kiss is all he has to suffer through before they get to business. Akaashi explains what they should expect and just like Tsukishima he's a bit disappointed.

“At least I get to see your face.” Is what he concludes, giving Akaashi the bedroom eyes and Tsukishima's out the door before things get out of hand.

The moment the door closes behind the bespectacled man, Bokuto picks Akaashi up and drops him on the sofa before sitting opposite to him.

“I talked to Kuroo.” He states, eyes fixed on Akaashi.

“And?” His messy haired lover purses his lips in distaste.

“He wants to talk to him at some point. I know it's a mess, but... I mean, I don't mind switching between him and Kuroo for the job. And I know _you're_ still pissed at him, but we can't work like this.”

And there it is. The face that tells Bokuto that he'll be spending the night on the couch. But even Akaashi has to agree to that logic.

“Look, they don't have to work together. Even I can see that going to shit real fast. It would help if at least you ignored his presence when he was in town.”

“I'll see about that.” Akaashi finally says.

“Thank you.” Bokuto says, visibly relieved even if he's gonna spend the next week on the couch. “So what was that about him and that guy you mentioned?”

“Bokuto-san, let me make this perfectly clear. If Tsukishima wants to talk to him, he'll talk to him. I don't want Kuroo anywhere near him until he's ready.”

“Alright. I understand.” Bokuto raises his arms up in surrender. “I promise I'll keep an eye on Kuroo.”

“I better not regret this.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tsukishima wasn't in the best of conditions when they met him that rainy day a year and a half ago. He then managed to recover from his burnout to a degree, thanks to Bokuto and Kuroo, but then Kuroo had to be stupid and drag him into a relationship that went spectacularly wrong within the span of three months. What exactly happened, Akaashi doesn't know, but it put a train on all of them until he and Bokuto agreed to manage things differently so no one ended up dead. But, as Bokuto said, things can't go on like this forever. They'll eventually cross paths again and they needed to sort things out. Whether Tsukishima would be up to it is another story. After all, it's only been a few months since the crash. And just as he seemed to take an interest in someone.

Hmm...

This just got more complicated than it should have.

 

“I suggest you and he first deal with this job here.” Akaashi says, head leaned on Bokuto's legs, thinking. “Tsukishima can then go enjoy his vacation and Kuroo can walk the streets of Rome without fearing a statue of a Roman god falling on his head.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Bokuto smiles at him, combing through his hair. He missed this a lot.

“I hope you spending a week on the couch is worth it.” Akaashi says, closing his eyes.

“ _...I hope so, too._ ”

 

 

“Let's do this.” Bokuto says as he stands on the roof, watching the guard disappears around the corner.

“I'll go.” Tsukishima offers, glancing at his watch, measuring the time. “I'll fit in easier.”

“Your call then. I'll keep an eye on the guards.”

“Do what you must.” The younger says as he slides down the roof, going for the window and slipping inside without further ado, making sure he doesn't damage the piece Akaashi prepared for this.

Bokuto just shakes his head slowly, with a grin. This kid never failed to make his day with that impassive face of his, even if he knows he's excited.

Tsukishima steps on the second floor, blinking a few times to adjust to the dim light, searching for the blue case. He finds it where Akaashi told him it would be. It's all too easy. He unrolls the original, takes it off the protective case, carefully replaces it with the one he brought with and puts it back in it's place, making sure it looks like no one was there in the first place.

“ _Lay low, Tsukishima, guard number two is making his way to you._ ” He hears Bokuto say into the microphone.

Oh, a slight inconvenience appears. What thrill. He hides behind a panel, waiting for the guard to pass. Once the guard is out of the room, so is he. Out the same window he came in but with a far more valuable prize.

“You sure are graceful.” Bokuto says as he climbs up the roof effortlessly. “This must be the easiest job I had in years. Other than the one time I picked up a miniature in the passing. That was literally a walk in the park.”

“Let's go.” He says and they make their way down.

“So, what are you going to do now?” Bokuto asks, leaning against a wall as they wait for their ride.

“I reserved an estate not far from here to enjoy some peace and quiet.” Tsukishima complies, rather conversation oriented. “I may go see the horse race in Siena. It's been a while.”

“I see. Well, I hope you enjoy your vacation. I have a few more commissions to deal with before I kick back and relax.”

“I recommend you take Akaashi to the opera this week. His favourite is playing. Might help you with your punishment.”

“So you heard...”

“No, but I can tell you did something to piss him off.”

“Ahaha...true. I just hope it doesn't come back to bite me in the ass too hard.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Thanks.”

A little down the street, Akaashi parks the car and waves as he gets out.

“Our ride has arrived.”

“Take this, Bokuto. I'll join you later.” Tsukishima says as he hands over the art case and pulls out a shirt out of his backpack he left hidden behind the corner of the nearby building.

Bokuto says nothing but merely accepts the case, walking down to meet Akaashi. He almost wished him a nice evening, but he doubts he'd remain so friendly for long.

“Oh? Out again?” Akaashi tilts his head with a small smile as he places the case carefully in the back of the car. “My, my.”

“I see you weren't kidding me when you told me he found something interesting.”

“Bokuto-san. Please. It's someone.”

“Ohoho? Someone I know?” Bokuto turns all ears as he sits comfortably next to Akaashi as he starts the engine.

“Doubt it. He's one of Oikawa's.” Akaashi says as he turns into his seat to park out in reverse.

“Where on earth did you find one of Oikawa's?”

“The basilica. He has a soft spot for the Pietá.”

“Speaking of which,” Bokuto smiles brightly, “I hear your favourite opera plays this week. Would you do me the honour and let me spoil you?”

“Of course. Better get the good seats.”

“Anything you say.”

They're near the apartment when Bokuto remembers something.

“Uh...didn't you say we were supposed to pick that piece up tomorrow?”

Akaashi merely gave him a look.

“It was merely a suggestion.”

“Oh. Okay then.”

 

On the opposite side of the city, Tsukishima's in a tram, heading towards _Fontana di Trevi,_ wondering as to what the fuck was he even doing, actually looking forward to meet one Kageyama Tobio there. If anyone cared to ask him and if he were to reply, he'd probably go with the apparent air of innocent naivety he seemed to have around him. True, now that he knows whom he works with, Tsukishima highly doubts that he really _is_ as naïve, but he's still confident in his first impression of him. Also granted, whom ever he meets after dealing with Akaashi and Bokuto strikes him as a naïve person but with Kageyama, it's a rather welcome change. He doesn't irritate him, shocker, he knows, but rather...attracts him, in a way. Not that he'll ever admit it to anyone, and especially not Akaashi. No, scratch that. He'll rather proclaim that to the world than give Akaashi that satisfaction of hitting the nail on the head.

Of course his first reaction will be denial, he's a stubborn little shit like that. But that person gets to him, in a strange way. Hell, he even got that small conversation about his photography out of him that night, and Tsukishima himself was taken aback at how easily he went along with it.

 _Maybe that's a good thing_ , he thinks as he gets off the tram and continues on foot until he reaches the enormous fountain. He quickly spots him, deeply interested in the fountain, no doubt wishing he brought that sketchbook with him.

“Waiting for someone?” He asks as he stands next to him, getting his attention as easily as the fountain does and that triggers a ridiculous sense of accomplishment in him.

“Maybe I am.” He replies. “Where to?”

“This way.”

 

* * *

 

“Your girlfriend must have wept when you told her you're going to Rome for two months.” Tsukishima says, taking a sip of what was his second glass of a strong red wine as they sit on a terrace, nice and comfy.

“Don't have one.” Kageyama replies smoothly, enchanted by the pretty colour briefly before he takes a sip of his own. Can't say he wasn't a bit pleased to hear that, but that doesn't exactly prove anything.

“Boyfriend, then?” He tries next.

“Nope.”

“You're kidding me.” He puts his glass down with a slight thud.

“I was probably the nerdiest and atypical art student they had there. I'm also sure I still have that title even today.”

“Do tell.”

“I handed all my assignments on time and didn't once get arrested or missed a class.”

“You are probably also the professor's worst nightmare. A proper student in art school. Seriously, what were you thinking?”

“I know. Makki-san was on my case for that some ten months. He gave up on that, later.” Okay, so this _Makki-san_ may or may not pose a-wow this wine is really getting to him.

“Must have broken his heart.” He opts to say, telling himself not to get ahead himself. But damn, he can't deny he has a certain charm.

“In his words, I still have time to commit some federal offence and make him proud.”

“That's what people call a supportive parent.” So this _Makki-san_ person is the older brother type who talks people into shit. Good.

Wait a minute. Why would he care who that person was to him in the first place? It's not like he's here to get into his pants-

“Are you alright?” Kageyama asks as Tsukishima gives his glass a rather pissed look.

“I'm fine. But I think I'll slow down with this.”

“You're right. This is pretty good.”

“Yeah.”

So it's something close to 11 in the evening and Tsukishima feels like he might have just screwed himself over with this proposition. The wine is not helping his thoughts, obviously. There's also the possibility that goodie two shoes on the other side of the table may prove dangerous for his sanity.

 

_Then again, why not?_

 


	10. This want, what is it?

They end up talking about everything and nothing throughout the evening. Tsukishima ends up feeling incredibly light and liberated despite having stopped drinking after that second glass. It's amazing. Then Kageyama starts explaining a story from his college days, making a face and Tsukishima is in stitches. The damn story isn't even that funny but he can't help it. He feels good. He feels _really_ good. He enjoys his company and he frankly can't remember when was the last time he didn't have knot in his stomach.

He felt the need to tell him things that he never told anyone before and even if they met some three times in their life, he had this feeling that whatever he said would remain safe with Kageyama.

And again, he has to pull his own breaks a bit there.

He is clearly attracted to those blue eyes and dark hair and incredible smile he shows when thinking of something and Tsukishima can see a bit of mischief in his eyes, glinting softly. That something about him increases tenfold when the stern look on his face melts away into something softer when he looks at him. He could be imagining that bit, but he's not.

And that's when it hits him.

He's having fun. Immensely so.

Kageyama's letting down that tight guard of his because Tsukishima isn't trying too hard, unlike last time. Makes perfect sense, when he gives it a bit thought. Both of them live in a world where lies and pretence are as common as fake smiles and forgeries and deception is never far behind. He's seen the envy in people, jealousy and spite when they clash over a particular piece. People have no problems ruining beauty if they can't have it for themselves. People have no issues destroying what others made.

But then, there's Kageyama. And other people like him who salvage the work and minimize the damage. Tsukishima doesn't know what he's seen so far, but it must be great to be able to look past the layers of dirt and bring out the image their painter once saw.

“What brought you here?” He asks, without thinking. How Kageyama understood what he meant by that was beyond him.

“Art? I was asked to. Choosing the restaurateur profession? Well...”

Shit. Seems like Tsukishima found his weak spot. But instead of sending him right to hell like he pretty much did, he just took in a deep breath and started talking.

“It's funny actually. Now, that is. I had this crush on this guy but that didn't go well when he got wind of it. I was promptly shut out of his perception of existence when he asked me if it was true and I just went and said yeah. I don't know. Truthfully, I didn't even plan on doing something about it until I figured out some stuff, but he beat me to it. And that was that. End of that paragraph.” He says, expression almost serene under the lights. His nose scrunches a bit as he seems to have remembered something. “I think I scared the hell out of him when I confirmed my crush on him. I was freaked out with that revelation about myself, I can only imagine how he must have felt.” He adds, a small smile full of nostalgia adorns his lips.

“And that's when I decided to walk around town after volleyball practice. Ended up visiting the gallery. Never once in my life have I thought about going there, to be honest. Turned out to be the best decision I ever made. Restoration gave me a new perspective on things. Even if things look grim, there's always a pleasant surprise underneath.”

There are a number of emotions set in motion deep within Tsukishima at that. But there is one that wins out by default.

“He just ignored your existence because you had a crush on him.” He summarises that pretty good, eyes wide in disbelief. “What the actual fuck.”

Kageyama laughs at his expression, clearly over the whole episode. “That was ages ago.”

“No, no, no.” Tsukishima interrupts, outraged. “No. How dare he? You don't just ignore people when they have a crush on you, that's just – no. I get being freaked out. I do. But that's beyond rude. I mean, come on.

As amusing he found it, Kageyama couldn't help but think he was right.

“Yeah, I agree. That sucked.”

“Of course it did.” Tsukishima nearly grumbles. “I can't believe this.”

Whether he couldn't believe that idiot actually did that or the fact that he was worked up over something that doesn't even matter any more or maybe that he felt jealousy over a random nobody he never even seen because Kageyama had a crush on him once, he wasn't so sure himself.

“Want in on a secret?” Kageyama then asks, and the low tone of his voice should not be affecting Tsukishima to this degree but it does and it's kinda nice. More than nice.

“You dated his best friend instead?” Tsukishima offers, with a sly smile. That's what he'd do. Most likely. Nah, scratch that, he'd do it without fail.

“No. I never told this anyone. It felt nice to share it with someone.” He says. “Thank you.”

“Not at all.” Tsukishima says, all of his previous turmoil forgotten.

“Let me show you something.” He stands up, offering a hand to Kageyama, which he takes.

“Sure. Lead the way.”

_Ugh, that smile of his..._

They switch a few lines, Tsukishima explaining how to move the fastest around the different _Rione,_ or districts, put extremely crude, when on foot or using the public transportations.

Tsukishima leads them to _Piazza della Rotonda_ , where another famous building stands.

“You sure have a thing for high places.” Kageyama says as they find themselves up on a roof again, overlooking the Pantheon, a Roman temple constructed somewhere between 118 to 125 A.D.

The building is circular with a portico of large granite Corinthian columns (eight in the first rank and two groups of four behind) under a pediment. A rectangular vestibule links the porch to the rotunda, which is under a coffered concrete dome, with a central opening, the oculus, to the sky. Almost two thousand years after it was built, the Pantheon's dome is still the world's largest unenforced concrete dome. The height to the oculus and the diameter of the interior circle are the same, 43.3 metres. A masterpiece of engineering. It was commissioned by Marcus Agrippa during the reign of Emperor Augustus, but it was the Emperor Hadrian who seen it done. The original inscription naming Marcus Agrippa confused the people dating the construction.

During the Renaissance, it was turned into a tomb – the painter Raphael is buried there among other notable names; nowadays, it's in use as a Catholic church.

“Are we even allowed up here?” Kageyama asks.

“I doubt it.”

“I just might live up to Makki-san's expectations with you.” Kageyama laughs, amused, but showing no signs of discomfort.

“I don't think you'd mind either.” Tsukishima comments.

“I confess.”

“Ever been inside?” Kageyama asks nodding his head towards the Pantheon.

“No.” He isn't one to marvel at architecture in his free time.

“...would you like to visit it?”

_Of course, that can be easily changed._

“With you?”

“Uhm, yes?” Kageyama's face is red now, gaze fixed on a spot that clearly isn't Tsukishima, sounding as if he expected a _no_ for an answer. Luckily, Tsukishima has to disappoint.

“I'd like to.”

Even for someone with Tsukishima's expertise in reading people, Kageyama remained a piece of work. He could never tell what went on in his head, so this proposition of his came as a pleasant surprise. What the blush on his face meant, well...he'll have to find out another day.

When they part ways, it's some god forsaken hour. Tsukishima gave Kageyama his number before he could even ask or offer his, a thing he _never_ does, seeing how people usually begged him to take theirs. But Kageyama Tobio is not just anyone.

A thing Akaashi confirms after Tsukishima walks in the apartment with a calm smile on his face, not even aware of it. And then that smile falters as he seems to piece something together.

Bokuto arrives home to find Akaashi on the floor, having laughed himself off the couch, clutching his own stomach trying to find words but _oh god he can't stop laughing_ with Tsukishima looking extremely confused.

Instead of Tsukishima messing with Kageyama's head, it looks like the exact opposite happened.

 

*

 

“Makki-san.” Kageyama begins that morning, as the older male enters the living room in search for his shirt he lend Sugawara that got out of the cleaning.

“Hmm?” Hanamaki hums as he bends over the couch to reach it.

“How do you tell if someone likes you?”

 

_He almost breaks his neck and ribs when he slips over the wooden outline of the furniture at the question._

“ _Wha-what?” He stutters, eyes wide, clutching the armrest of the sofa for dear life, trying to get up and ignore the throbbing in his ribs upon the impact._

“ _Are you okay?” Kageyama walks over to him as he hears the loud thud._

“ _Never better.” He grins, shirt and painful ribs forgotten._

_There's one good thing when you're the one who constantly loses both their chill and shit and that's the fact that you can react properly when one of the countless scenarios created in your head actually happens._

 

_Most of the time._

 


	11. A phone call, such mess

Back in Japan, Oikawa is busy with a load of paperwork he decided to ignore until Iwaizumi threatened with bodily harm that involved things like Oikawa, throwing and window.

“You think you can handle that?” Iwaizumi asks, looking suspiciously at Oikawa, who's surrounded by piles of documents.

“Of course. Don't worry and get going before you're late.” Oikawa smiles brightly at him, barely peeking over the mountain.

“Fine. I'm off.” His assistant says and walks out the door, checking his watch as he walks down the corridor.

The moment he's out the door, Oikawa's on the phone, paperwork be damned. He's got all this in the computer anyway. Thank modern times and a thing called electronic signatures.

“Tobio-chan! How nice to hear you! Having fun?” He all but chirps on the phone, spinning around in his chair, cursing himself mentally when his foot connects with the desk rather painfully, a few stacks toppling over as well.

“Oh, that is great to hear. I'm happy for you.” He says when his protégé confirms. “Listen, Tobio-chan, I have a favour to ask of you. I know you're on vacation and I know a number of people who'll be hot on my heels if they ever hear of this, but I really need you to do something for me.”

Another pile of papers ends up scattered all over the floor when Oikawa kicks it.

“You will? Thank you, you're a lifesaver.” Oikawa grins. “I'll send you the details in the mail. It won't take long, I promise!”

They end the conversation a few minutes after and Oikawa hangs up pretty pleased with himself. All he needed was for Tobio to pick up a package from the art gallery and bring it when he gets home. Nice and easy. No one will ever know Oikawa sent him on an errand during his vacation. Perfect.

Now he can get back to work.

 

By work, he means making paper planes and getting rid of the stacks.

 

* * *

 

 

In Rome, Italy, Kageyama hangs up the phone and passes out flat on his bed, unable to move an inch. They've been in Siena, San Marino and Bologna. Matsukawa promised they'd see the horse race in Siena when it takes place in August, the view from the top of San Marino, a miniature state in the midst of Italy, was amazing. Hanamaki and Suga took a good while to tear Matsukawa and Kageyama away from the libraries and universities in Bologna. Driving from one place to another was an experience in itself. He should have brought his sketchbook with him. His phone had a camera, but he was disastrous with it. The light was wrong, the stupid filter wouldn't go off and God forbid it zoomed in; that was a whole new level of nightmare. His phone was full of blurred images not even the built in app could salvage. Maybe he should ask Tsukishima for some tips the next time they meet. He couldn't embarrass himself like this. But for now, upon discovering how to get to the camera mode, a few second film snippets would suffice to serve as inspiration later on.

He didn't even notice how long he's been on his feet until he finally calmed down. It took everything he got not to pass out in the shower. Thankfully, that little errand for Oikawa isn't urgent, so he doesn't have to rush tomorrow. A good night's sleep is all he really needs right now.

The next morning greets him with a murky sky, air smelling of rain and true to his olfactory senses, he wakes up to see rain coming down in a summer shower, accompanied by flashes of lightning and low growls of thunder here and there. He has no idea how long it's been since it started, but the whiff of fresh air coming through the balcony doors is a more than welcomed change from the scorching heat and burnt air they had for the past few days.

Might as well go and get it over with. A walk should be nice.

 

* * *

 

 

“This is what you call _handling_ your paperwork?” Iwaizumi asks when he gets back, raising an eyebrow at the nest of papers Oikawa created in the middle of his office.

“I got all of this in my computer. It would have been a shame to throw out such quality paper.” Oikawa says, folding yet another paper plane.

“Why did you have to be an ass and let them accumulate two month of vacation?” Iwaizumi sighs, sitting down on the floor, picking a document and making a paper crane out of it. It's great for de-stressing.

“So did you strike a deal?”

“Yes. They will mail all the documents and all you need is to sign them. The commission will be some 15-17% depending on how fast the whole deal goes.”

“As expected of Iwa-chan.”

“Shut it.”

They keep folding various shapes from all the paper on the floor, comparing the design of each one. The weekend has officially started the moment Iwaizumi walked out the administration office of the gallery they had business with so why not make something out of the mess Oikawa managed to create in just a few hours he left him alone. Sometimes it's way too easy to forget this guy is a ruthless art collector ready to destroy people over a painted canvas given that he acts like e big baby whenever he's out of public sight. Maybe Iwaizumi should look up some art. Give the lazy ass some real work, at least until Hanamaki and Suga get back and things return to normal around here.

“Iwa-chan, I have been thinking.”

“Did you hurt yourself?”

“Iwa-chan, rude.”

“Says a grown ass man who still uses suffixes for little kids.”

“Anyway, it's been a while since we had dinner. Just the two of us.”

They had dinner alone ever since the last trip, and breakfast and lunch and afternoon tea at five like they were British citizens in the midst of 1840's, given that everyone else was away, but try and tell him that and not get a whine in return. But seeing him struggle with a biscuit falling apart right into his cup is always fun to watch.

“What would you like for dinner?” He opts to ask instead, feeling quite serene with the twentieth crane emerging from the copy of some contract or the other.

“Something with milk bread.”

“That's not even proper food.”

“Yes it is.”

“I'm ordering Italian.”

“What, miss them much?”

“Another word from you and I'll take a vacation myself.”

The silence following made him smile as he continued to fold the bird.

 

_All of a sudden every phone in the office, including their cellphones, started ringing._

_“Iwaizumi.”_

_“Oikawa.”_

_They answer their phones, letting the land line switch to secretary._

_Oikawa pales and Iwaizumi raises his voice in mild panic._

 

 

“ _What do you mean, Kageyama's missing?!”_

 


	12. Murphy's law

It all starts with that rainy day, when he and Bokuto, with Akaashi following somewhere behind, ran into that small café. He, Kuroo Tetsurou, knew he needed to know those golden eyes and salty attitude better.

He should have been smarter than that, though.

Now, several moths later, he's in a sort of exile, sitting on a bench in Prague, risking a sunburn, contemplating whether to accept that job or not. Bokuto would be in on it, that much was sure, but it's gold eyes and pissy electrified cat he doesn't want to disturb. As luck would have it, the newest commission is in Rome and that's the one place he wants to avoid at all costs.

His phone rings, interrupting his train of thoughts. The caller ID states Bokuto.

“Oya.” He says as he presses the phone against his ear.

“ _Oya oya._ ” Bokuto greets in their own fashion on the other side. “ _Good news, bro. Akaashi agreed to ignore your existence if you decide to show your face over here._ ”

Oh? That's unexpected.

“...really?” He manages, surprised. “I...I don't know what to say.”

“ _On the condition you stay the fuck away from him and never ask about Tsukishima._ ” Bokuto adds quickly.

“I can live with that.” Kuroo says, leaning back against the bench, shoulders slumping down heavily with relief. At least he's allowed to step foot in the same country as them again. “I can take on the job, then?”

“ _Sure, why not? I could use a bit action. All I've been doing is laze around and eat pasta. I'll turn into a tagliatelle soon._ ”

Kuroo laughs at that. “Oh poor you. But you're right. What kind of friend would I be if I let you turn into spaghetti?”

“ _It's a tagliatelle._ ”

“Same. It's pasta.”

“ _No, I'm telling you, it's not._ ”

“What's the difference?”

“ _The shape, man, the shape. They burn people alive for that here. It's like I say the molecular structure of aspirin is the same as the one from I don't know, sleeping powder?_ ”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Kuroo waves it off, leaning his forehead against his fist with his elbow placed on his knee. “I'll e-mail you the details once I get the job and I'll be on the plane for Rome by tomorrow morning. Make sure Akaashi doesn't arrange for poison to be slipped into my coffee on the plane or something.”

“ _Nah, don't worry about that. If anything, you should expect the wrath of a Roman god._ ”

“I'll watch out for that, too. Thanks a bunch, bro.”

“ _No problem. I'll be sleeping on the couch for two weeks, but hey._ ”

Ouch. Then again, it could have been worse. He got himself out the apartment for a month when he accidentally knocked turpentine on some painting once while gesturing too hard. Wow, Akaashi must be ecstatic if Bokuto only got two weeks. On the couch. In the apartment. He wonders what happened. _Too bad he can't ask, but he'll take what he can get, for now._

“I'll repay you back. Somehow.”

“ _Just don't make me regret this._ ”

“Sure. Adiós, then.”

“ _Ciao._ ”

He hangs up and stares at his phone for a moment before everything sinks in. He then grins widely. Seems like the universe likes him again.

 

The next day, he's packed and ready, with all the instructions for the job. Seems easy enough; in and out, take a miniature, leave the one provided by the employer. The only tricky part is the time frame – during the employees break in the middle of day in a busy gallery.

 _Nah, I worry to much_ , he thinks as he leans back in his seat on the plane, putting on the headphones provided by the flight attendant, a cute brunette with amazing brown eyes, smiling at him more on the polite side than necessary. Maybe he should get a number. Wouldn't hurt.

The flight passes without problems, terrorists or violent turbulence's, but the weather in Rome is a little less in his favour. By the time he's out the airport, it's a real downpour. Though he wouldn't be surprised if Akaashi was somehow responsible for it, because he'd definitely find a way. Then again, it could be the Roman gods. One can never know. Or be too careful.

“OYA, Kuroo!” Bokuto calls out to him, waving under an umbrella. “Welcome. How was your flight?”

“Oya, Bokuto. It was fine. Which I can't say about this weather.”

Bokuto laughs, getting droplets from the umbrella all over him.

“Yeah, let's get you out of here. You remembered to bring the keys of your crib?”

“Sure. I don't wanna encounter Akaashi just yet.”

“Good call. So what's the deal?”

“We need to be there around lunch hour. I got the replacement miniature ready. All we have to do is get in and get out.”

“Aw, man, all we get these days is easy things.” Bokuto pouts as the near the car, helping Kuroo toss in the suitcase in the trunk. “Last job I had almost provided me with a detailed map.”

“I guess people go on vacation and it just gets easier.” Kuroo says as he sits down in the passenger seat, fastening the belt.

“Wouldn't people going on vacation make it harder considering that more people would be walking around museums and galleries in Rome of all places?” Bokuto starts the engine and they're off.

“You got a point there.” The black haired male concludes. “I won't complain, though. A few easy jobs that don't take up a whole month of preparations never killed anyone. Remember the one swap we had to do in that dude's private gallery? In his home while a gala night was going on?”

“Oh, yes. Best job so far.”

“Speak for yourself. It took two months just to gather the necessary info on that guy, let alone the rest of it.”

“We made more with that one job than in the previous year.”

“True, but Akaashi refused to touch a brush for the whole winter season.”

“Yes, but after all the painstaking details and all-nighters he had to pull off in that time frame he was given, I don't blame him one bit. I think they paid him twice what we were for his efforts.”

“Really? Wow.” Kuroo whistles, impressed. “What did he do with all that?”

“Where did you think the place in Rome came from? The rest is in his bank account. Long live the Swiss.”

“Long live the Swiss.”

“Wait, don't tell me you blew it all?”

“What? No. I'm not _that_ irresponsible with money. Where did you get the idea?”

“I'm just checking. So you pick these up to pass the time?”

“And to keep myself in form. If I were to think about things only when a whale of a job appears, I'd forget what my name is at some point, let alone how to pull a stunt.”

 

A few minutes pass in comfortable silence and Bokuto focuses on the traffic and road ahead. A few streets down and one turn to the left, and a familiar neighbourhood appears before Kuroo. The building he has his apartment in is a three stories high building with a small garden in the back and a white facade. Bokuto teased him about that and only then it occurred to Kuroo that all his properties have a small garden and white facade. He never really bothered to notice, let alone think about it. But whatever, he likes it. And the neighbourhood is relatively quiet for a bustling city of a few million residents.

“I've been thinking.” Bokuto then say, breaking that silence. “Legalities and all that shit aside, I'm really happy with my current job. People should just do what makes them happy.”

“If only more people thought like us.”

“What a place this world would be.”

“We're here.”

The pull up on the only free parking lot, with Bokuto killing the engine. The shower died down a bit, enough for them to get Kuroo's things inside without getting soaked to the bone while trying to cross two metres form the car to the front doors.

“I'll be opening the window.” Bokuto offers as Kuroo unlocks the doors of his place, only to be greeted by stale air and a bit of dust.

“Please do.” Kuroo places the suitcase in the entry, taking off his damp jacket before placing it on a hanger to dry. “What time is it?”

“8:15.”

“Want some coffee?”

“Sure. Make it strong.”

“Coming right up.” He moves to the kitchen, opening the window there too before rummaging through the cup board in search of his coffee making utensils. He doesn't like stuff coffee machines for households make; he prefers making it himself. He grabs a bag of coffee beans from the kitchen cabinet above his head, checking the date. The aroma greeting his nose spells heavenly and he measures two cups before stuffing the beans into a coffee grind.

He brings the water to a boil, turns of the gas and puts the coffee pot aside. He waits until the water stops bubbling too much and dumps the fine coffee powder into it, stirring and stopping occasionally so not to bring the dark liquid to spill over.

“Did you actually grind the beans to make this?” Bokuto asks as he brings the coffee on a serving tray, with cream, milk and sugar on the side, putting it on the table in the living room where the other made himself comfortable.

“Of course I did. There's no way I'm using that pre-made stuff, it looses it's aroma too quickly. Especially If you tend to stack up on things like I do.”

“And you call Akaashi picky.” Bokuto smirks as he takes his cup and blows lightly on the surface before taking a sip. The moment it washes over his tongue sends his senses into bliss with a side stop to paradise. Kuroo knows his coffee.

“He spent two days browsing tea sets.” Said male retorts, taking a sip of his own. Oh, yes, that's the stuff. Maybe he should try roasting the stuff himself once. But not for this ungrateful owl impersonation. He wouldn't recognise good coffee from bad if his life depended on it. A few moths ago, he didn't even know there were different types of coffee to begin with.

“DID YOU SEE HOW MANY TYPES ARE THERE?”

“Alright, alright, I get it.”

“By the way, I brought that thing you got for Akaashi and then forgot to bring it with you.” Kuroo says, leaned against his armchair.

“Oh, thank you. I searched everywhere for it.”

“Why didn't you just get him flowers and chocolate or a diamond ring? The customs almost drank my blood when they inspected it.”

“You serious? It's just a Swarovski crystal owl, not five kilograms of crystal meth.”

“The way you wrapped it, it might as well been. The emerald bow is a nice touch, though.”

“What was I supposed to do, leave it to break? No way in hell. And thank you, I like that colour very much.”

 _Of course you do, it's the colour of your pissy boyfriends eyes, after all,_ Kuroo thinks but remains silent. The moment customs send the bill on his mail, he'll forward it to him. He almost missed his flight because of that thing. Thank God Bokuto had the mind to leave the original receipt under the cushion of the box, otherwise Kuroo would have chucked both him and the owl over the first bridge he saw.

 

But, moving on the more pressing matter, he directed the conversation onto the task at hand.

 

“We'll walk in with a tourist group and I'll sneak into the restoration studio when they make rounds on the first floor.”

“How are you even going to bring the miniature in? They don't allow backpacks inside.”

“That's why people invented tablet cases big enough to replace it.” Kuroo explains, showing him a modified tablet protection case with a tablet inside. “I can fit the miniature in the back, here, and even if one of the guards find something suspicious and start fumbling with it, the tablet works to a degree so they won't have any reasons to keep me around.”

“Seems you got it all covered.”

“Like I said, one of the easiest jobs on the planet.”

Bokuto nods at that. They got it all covered. The guards will be paying more attention to the group, especially when Bokuto starts asking questions in a very loud fashion and creates a diversion. The people working in the back studio will be on collective lunch break, the gallery itself doesn't show high risk works at this point in time so there won't be any other risks other than the usual things they can cover in the go.

 

_What could possibly go wrong?_

 

_Well..._

 

_Kuroo failed to take in account that there might be something extra going on in the back studio – like a relative outsider sent to pick up the very miniature he was sent to pick up and replace. Bokuto didn't think that Kuroo was capable of freaking out over that unexpected encounter to the point of knocking the kid out with some chemical or the other he grabbed from the table and not accidentally kill him in the process._

_All in all, they found themselves with two miniatures, a real one and a fake one and a unconscious kid with a nasty case of nosebleed at that, in the back studio after Bokuto slipped past the doors, leaving his group of fellow tourists in high spirits along with the guide to carry on the tour around the gallery._

_They had no time to stop and think for a second because the lunch break was over and five or so people were returning to their posts to carry on their jobs for the day, along with the curator of the establishment to make all the necessary preparations so the miniature can be handed over._

_They all arrive in the studio to find the miniature missing, a bottle of a chemical opened and left on the table, Oikawa's assistant gone with some blood stains on the floor and a cellphone not belonging to anyone present with its glass smashed, lying on the floor._

_Needless to say, all hell broke loose._

 

Back in the apartment near Piazza Navona, Akaashi just finished brewing himself some green tea, pouring it in his favourite cup – a green Aynsley porcelain cup with a floral design on the inside and a gold line on the handle. How much he favoured the cup? _He named the damn thing. He called it Albertine._

That's right. He loved the tea cup so damn much he gave it a name. Bokuto was banned from even _looking_ at it. Hell, he even kept it under a lock. Just in case.

So, with the cup named Albertine on the table, with the tea left to cool a bit and a book in his hands, he makes himself comfortable to enjoy a quiet rainy afternoon. Tsukishima had left the day before to that residence he rented out for his vacation and Bokuto had things to do. People to deal with. Whatever the case, Akaashi had the whole place to himself and had ideas how to use it.

He reached page fifty of his novel, taking a sip before putting the cup down on its plate. His phone started buzzing next to it and he reaches it, answering without checking the caller ID first, _that's how relaxed he felt_ , eyes fixed on the page – it was just getting intense.

He had no idea. How intense that phone call was about to get.

“Akaashi speaking."

“...”

The book dropped on the floor and the glass on his phone cracked under his fingers as he heard the news.

“ _And exactly how, Bokuto Koutarou, does one accidentally kidnap someone on what you say was a simple job?”_

 

_Forget the couch, Bokuto thinks listening to the low hiss the voice of his beloved turned into in under a second, he will be forever grateful if Akaashi decides to acknowledge his existence in the known universe ever again._

 

_Thanks a bunch, Kuroo._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise, I have nothing against Kuroo. Or Bokuto. In this fiction, they're the unfortunate scapegoat, just like Akiteru was stepping on every landmine in Mysteries. I'm a horrible person. Marvel at my stupid obsession over a tea cup I love very much and I also have a HC that Akaashi would enjoy a pretty tea set, so I lent him mine. Haha.
> 
> Please enjoy. See you next chapter. :D


	13. Decisions, decisions

Akaashi Keiji is as cool blooded as they come, nothing gets to him more than it should. Of course, nothing of that applies when it comes to dealing with one Bokuto Koutarou and one Kuroo Tetsurou.

Those two combined stand for anything and everything that can derail his usual flow of inner calmness and turn into a violent storm only visible in his eyes.

And it's that storm that Bokuto fears more than anything else. It usually manifests as a low voice and a glare so cold it makes the absolute zero look piping hot. Okay, maybe he's exaggerating that one, but for him it feels that way.

“Shit, Kuroo, is he dead?” He asks in a weak voice, seeing how pale their unexpected hostage is.

“No, no. He'll be fine. A bit nauseous when he wakes up and with a splitting headache, but otherwise fine.” Kuroo says, albeit with a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

Only when the kid near instantly collapsed and nose started to bleed enough to shout murder did he take a look at the bottle of the chemical he grabbed. How was he supposed to know those idiots at the gallery used a 2% instead of 0,2% solution like everyone else? God must really look out for the drunk and idiotic. Or whatever the correct saying is. Right now, he's trying not to panic too much over the prospect that he might have killed someone.

“Shouldn't we take him to the hospital or something?”

“And tell them what? Hey, we accidentally drugged him and kidnapped him while trying to get a painting not so legally, so could you check we didn't kill him?”

“We could say we found him on the street?” Bokuto offers and Kuroo has to stop for a minute.

“You know what, that's actually not a bad idea.”

 

“ _What nonsense are you spouting this time, you incompetent morons?_ ” Akaashi growls from the door, pissed as hell and soaked to the bone. “ _You absolutely can't be seen with him unless you want to spend the next week in interrogation and risk the authorities finding out about all of this?_ ”

“But-”

“ _No buts. Get out of the way and open the damn windows._ ”

The best course of action is to oblige and preferably not breathe if possible because Akaashi never used such language unless ready to kill.

He went to the bathroom to get a towel before he turned to inspect the damage.

The two most unfortunate beings on the planet sat down, awaiting judgement moment because the day was upon them.

 

Things seemed to change in their favour for Akaashi stopped emanating waves of death and destruction the moment he laid eyes on the unconscious kid. A flash of recognition ran deep in his eyes, followed by an internal debate Bokuto knew all too well. The same look he got when debating whether to banish Bokuto for life or murder him on the spot when he spilled turpentine on that one painting Akaashi spent days and nights to finish.

“Kuroo, get me the first aid kit.” Akaashi says, taking a 180 turn in attitude as he spoke. “And a bowl with lukewarm water.”

Kuroo and Bokuto shared a brief look before the first scrambled on his feet to get him the box. Maybe they won't be buried alive in an unmarked grave after all?

Akaashi wiped the dried up blood from Kageyama's face, checked his pulse and breathing along with how quickly or slowly his pupils dilated when in contact with a source of mild light. Of course, he can't know how he feels until he wakes up but so far the signs are good.

 

“Do you two realise that pulling the stunt you pulled is infinitely more risky that not pulling it at all?” He asks later, rubbing his temples, as Kuroo and Bokuto finish they story of how this mess even occurred.

“Bokuto-san, I don't even _want_ to know.” He says, as Bokuto opens his mouth, no doubt to try and explain.

Kuroo knocking him out is more or less the logical move since he couldn't waste time and no one was supposed to be in the studio in the first place. Bokuto suggesting they take him with them for some reason is also something only Bokuto could think off in that kind of situation. _But Kuroo actually listening to him and them taking both the miniature and Kageyama with them is beyond even their usual capacity of making things more complicated that they should be._

What irks Akaashi to no end here is the fact that even that last bit is actually sane because they can't have him recognise them later as the culprits. With Kageyama as a accidental witness, even if they managed to swap the miniatures, there would be a rigorous check up of all things there. They would have noticed one of them is a fake. One thing would lead to another and _hello, bullshit, my old friend_.

 

_But there's now another problem._

 

Kuroo swears one could have measured Akaashi's blood pressure just by looking at him as he sat at the kitchen table, thinking things over. He even considered to get him some pills for that. Some ten minutes of deafening silence later, Akaashi returned from the kitchen to pass the final verdict. He looked like he tried to rip his own hair out, which he probably did at some point, drilling guilt right into Bokuto and a little less savage into Kuroo.

“If this plan of mine works, I'll get drunk to the brink of alcohol poisoning.” He informs them without further ado, rather ceremoniously. “Now excuse me while I make a phone call.”

 

 

Tsukishima came out of the bath a few minutes ago, getting ready to travel back to Rome, listening to the rain rustling the leaves outside. It's been a while since he had absolutely nothing planned out for the day. He wasn't lazy by nature, but why rush when one doesn't have to? Besides, out here, he was free from the heat of the city and even if he wanted to go back to it, he only needed to start the engine and drive some 20 kilometres down south. It was easier to breathe, too. He grabbed his phone from the table on his way to the living room, still clad in the bath robe, not that he had to mind anyone around here. The last message was from Kageyama, informing him he was on some small errand for his boss. Tsukishima had to roll his eyes at that, he figured the guy would be hard to distract from anything related to work. Now that he thought about it, maybe the idea of his companions bringing him to Rome wasn't such a crazy idea after all. It's certainly less of a shock when changing surroundings than taking him to some modern built resort with rave parties as the main attraction.

The blond man actually laughed out loud at the picture of Kageyama standing with glow stick looking mildly disgusted and utterly confused in a crowd of people jumping up and down on a relatively small space.

He pictured Kageyama more on the classical side of the music spectrum, perhaps listening to opera's or concerts while painting or restoring – a thing he also connected to Akaashi because he's seen him do that. Some restaurateur thing, Akaashi told him once when he asked.

He can't complain. He's knows of the benefits brought by classical music, but Tsukishima can only listen to it for so long. His taste in music is rather wide. He listens to whatever fits his mood or stays in his ears.

A new message appears on the screen of his phone. He slides his thumb over the screen, unlocking it before he can read it. What he reads, though, makes him frown and sit up straight on the sofa.

 

 _Missing? That can't be right_ , he thinks as he reads the message from that Makki-san Kageyama always mentioned, learning his name was actually Hanamaki Takahiro, informing him where he got his number, what happened and if he might have any idea as to where he even was before the whole incident.

 _So goodie two shoes has his moments of secrecy_ , he can't help but think as he replies with the last thing Kageyama told him. But that gets him thinking. Was he a target of a kidnapping case? That errand seemed pretty last minute so maybe he just found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time? Shit. Things like that could be messy if not bloody. Damn it, he really hoped he was alright.

Another message from Hanamaki comes in saying _thanks_ and _that was really helpful_ and _they'll keep him updated on the latest news_.

 

Okay, so the last bit of the message told him more than he hoped to read into and this was probably not the best time to feel happy that Kageyama seems to have taken quite a liking to him to have Hanamaki keep him updated on this thing since Tsukishima was a total stranger, for all they cared. Following that thought, the worry settles deeper within Tsukishima about this whole matter. Getting kidnapped on vacation is the exact opposite of what one wants from a vacation. Not to mention that those three Kageyama was with must be worried sick.

 

The buzz of his phone in his hands snap him from his thoughts, ID spelling Akaashi calling. He wastes no time answering because Akaashi ever only calls if he has to.

“Yes?” He says, thoughts still somewhere else.

“ _We have a situation here._ ”

“What is it?”

“ _Bokuto-san and Kuroo seemed to have picked up someone along with something during their last job._ ”

“...what?”

“ _They had a job in a gallery to swap something and they kidnapped our new friend, or yours more, along the way._ ”

“If this is a joke, Akaashi, better drop it.”

“ _It's not._ ”

“Good god...” Tsukishima drops against the sofa, a migraine building up from the amount of relief washing over him. “I just received a message from one of his friends or whatever they are asking if I knew anything. He only told me he had an errand to do so I forwarded that.”

“ _I see. Seems like he and those two ended up with the same thing. What a mess..._ ”

“Where is he now?”

“ _He's at Kuroo's. I was thinking of moving him to our place before he wakes up. I can't have him identify either of them._ ”

“Your plan is what? Talk to him and see if he goes with whatever a perfect stranger tells him?”

“ _Dear God, I'm starting to turn into Bokuto-san._ ”

“Wait. Wait. Uh..” Why does this have to be such a mess?

“How about this? Instead of your place, bring him here. We'll have more time to figure this out if a search party starts”, _which no doubt will_ , “and maybe I...can talk to him?”

Akaashi really hates himself right now.

“ _...you do realise he just might send us all to hell?_ ” Akaashi asks.

“I am perfectly aware of that, Akaashi.”

“ _Alright, then. I'll see you in a bit._ ”

“Sure.” He says, hanging up.

 

Just as things got somewhat normal...this has to happen. But Akaashi's right. They can't risk everything because of someone he... _really didn't know all that much about_...

 


	14. Oh ye of little faith

Kuroo stayed behind in his home sweet home, _instructed not to move a muscle_ , while Akaashi figures out what to do.

Said Akaashi is stuck between a rock and another hard place, thinking in silence, as Bokuto drives to Tsukishima's place. This is not how things should have gone. Not that he can do anything about it now except execute damage control.

Bokuto, on the other hand, is ready to implode. There's shit ton of questions swarming in his minds and Akaashi can tell but not yet. If he tells him now, chances are he'll accidentally drive them off the road in surprise and Akaashi is not willing to take those chances. Bokuto will have to wait.

“Is that it?” Bokuto asks as they near a brick wall rising from the horizon down one of the side roads Akaashi instructed Bokuto to take.

“Yes, just drive, the gates will open.”

True to his words, as Bokuto drives closer, the gates slide to the side, letting him pass before automatically closing again behind them.

He parks next to Tsukishima's car in the garage next to the house.

 

 _It's a nice place_ , Bokuto thinks, as he gets out of the now stuffy car. The drywall they passed by while entering the estate seemed to be going around the whole place, judging how far it stretched. The front of the house is a neat herb garden with a few decorative bushes next to the garage. There's also a huge, widely spread ivy all over the garage wall and just under the roof of the house on the east side. The house itself is a two storey building, decorative stone on the facade in all shades of beige and tan and sand and what not, he's not really into all the proper names of colours, but it looks elegant, combined with grey stone showing, overlooking a few acres of land around it and the shore on the west. Bokuto can't place the style since it looks like a nice blend of more than one – something between traditional and modern with a few details that fit neither. He figures Tsukishima chose it for it's location rather than the architectural design although he gives the garden an A+, mainly because he inhales the soft scent of lavender and some mild herbs and it's a real refreshment from the stuffy hot air of the dusty road.

“Bokuto-san.”

“What?” He turns to see Akaashi opening the passenger door. “Oh, right, hold on.”

He carries the sleeping Kageyama up to the guest bedroom as instructed by Tsukishima before coming down to join the two in the living room. He found only Akaashi by the slide door leading to a wooden patio in the back gardens, filled with pines, spruces and fir wood. Damn, kid has style.

“Who is he?” He asks, eyes on Akaashi, curious. “I noticed you recognised him.”

“Remember the one I talked to you about that might do Tsukishima good?”

“..yes?” _Why does this feel like it's not gonna like the answer?_

 _Crap,_ he thinks as Akaashi glances at him sideways before looking out in the garden away, _shit on a stick._

_Could this be any-_

_No. No. He's not going there. He's done enough damage as it is. What's even worse, he's not even sure any more whether the kid even saw him or Kuroo back there before they dragged him into this mess. Best not mention it to Akaashi, lest he dies of high blood pressure. And hope to god for a miracle when the kid actually wakes up._

“I'm going to join Tsukishima out for a bit.” Akaashi says as he reaches for the slide door.

“Alright.” Bokuto says as he watches Akaashi follow after Tsukishima.

The moment he disappears around the back corner, Bokuto falls to his knees.

_Kuroo, my bro, my broski, why?,_ he weeps, deep down inside. And Tsukishima even had a  _date_ with this guy scheduled- but wait. Maybe things  _could_ be sorted out to their overall satisfaction?

Okay. Alright. Okay. He can do this. All he has to do is wait for the kid to wake up, explain things and hope he doesn't end up scarred for life. He can do that. He managed to kidnap him in broad day light under near impossible terms and conditions, so this should be a piece of cake, right? Right.

_On with the program then._

He rummages through the pantry and kitchen counters in search for some tea or whatever else convenient to be brewed and hot and preferably  _not toxic._ Kuroo said something about an upset stomach...or was it headache? Uhh...Oh. Of course; it was nausea and headache. How could he forget? So coffee is out of the question, better make it some tea. Let's see. Chamomile, lavender, lemon grass, some sparkling thing, meditation mix, something he can't even pronounce, fancy pants tea, black, green, oolong, finally, some familiar stuff, ginger? What? Whatever. No, wait. Back up. Ginger tea is good for both. Aw yis.  _He be on a roll, gents and gentlemen._

He brews some ginger tea and boils a ginger root along with it for good measure since Kuroo did over do it with the nasty stuff. Hopefully he won't end up on the toilet for a prolonged period of time with this. He pours a cup for himself to try it. Nah, he'll be fine. It has a nice ginger taste and aroma, not too strong but definitely better than the bagged stuff out of the box.

...maybe some biscuits are in order?

Wow, Tsukishima has everything here. Some bleak tasteless digestive cookies should be fine with the ginger tea, he concludes, munching on them as he takes another sip of his tea. Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembers he had only coffee before this experimental tasting but he thinks he'll live. He's got a more robust stomach than that.

Right. Some tea, some cookies to go with it and a branch of pine on the tray. Master arranger Bokuto Koutarou. He could work in one of those posh fancy pants 10 star places, no problem.

Time to bring that upstairs.

 

Outside, on a bench under a finely branched out pine tree, sits Tsukishima and stares at the beach, making out waves crashing against the shore. This could have gone much better. His up and coming romance, if he was lucky. But now? Not likely.

No one in their right mind would ever go with his kidnappers even if they were accidental ones. How the hell was he going to explain it? Or Akaashi? Or anyone, for that matter? They'll be extremely lucky if he decides to just forget the whole thing and walk away, never to bee seen again.

_Which would be the exact opposite of what he wants._

“What do we do, Akaashi?” He asks as h hears footsteps, too light to belong to Bokuto and unless someone unauthorised is sneaking around, it can only be Akaashi.

“I have no idea.” The later replies, sitting down next to him, leaning against the back-rest. “I swear, I had no idea things would turn out like this.”

“No one did.”

“I'm sorry. I really wanted this to work out.” Akaashi says, voice low. “It's nice to see you look so relaxed again.”

“Maybe I rushed into this.” Tsukishima says, closing his eyes. It _felt nice_ , too. “I don't see how this should work out. We're kidnappers, for crying out loud. And now everyone will be out to search for the miniature and Kageyama. Must be karma.”

_More like two idiots on the loose without supervision_ , but karma might have it's own fingers in this one, too. They had it rather easy longer than even characters in movies. Something  _had_ to go wrong.  _But Akaashi would have rather be him or, even better, those two_ than Tsukishima. He really needs a break. Break as in rest and recuperate, not break into pieces.

“Damn it, Tsukishima, I shouldn't have listened to you.” Akaashi breathes out. “I should have taken the blame and sorted it out somehow, those two _are_ my responsibility, after all. Told him some crazy story and laid low.”

“Nonsense. We're equally idiots here.”

“Maybe _we_ need a break from _them._ ” Tsukishima ads after a minute of silence.

“I agree with that. What do you think of retreating on an island somewhere? Like the Outer Hebrides?”

“Sounds fantastic.”

They remain seated, each in his own thoughts, eventually letting go of brainstorming and just watching the scenery. Tsukishima's so stressed out by all this he wishes he had his camera there. And that tells him a lot.

The sun sets over the horizon, snapping them both out of their daze. Shit. Did they really just sit through a few hours? Kageyama-

They look at each other, reading panic on both of them and hurry back to the house.

Upon reaching the house, they see light in the living room and hear Bokuto talk about something in his trademark fashion – meaning loud and proud – and a much quieter voice. Oh, good, Kageyama seems to be awake.

 

_Shit, Kageyama seems to be awake._

 

Despite all the shit they've been through so far, neither feels all too brave to get any nearer to the glass door. How could they be so stupid and lose half a day staring at the sunset like some grannies? God knows what happened in there with Bokuto left on his own. Akaashi visibly shudders at the thought.

“ _Hold on, I'll go check where they are._ ” They hear Bokuto say and freeze on the spot. The doors slide open and Bokuto peeks his head out, looking around until he spots them.

“There you are!” He smiles without a care in the world. “Come in, I made dinner. Kageyama feels much better. I made him tea. Oh, and, don't worry, I explained everything. You're safe.”

_How nice, Bokuto explained everything._

 

_Oh God, they are so dead._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, Oikawa, Iwaizumi, and the unholy trio. Also, how Bokuto fixed things. He thinks that, at least.


	15. Dead men walking

Sugawara came back from his shopping as fast as he could that morning when he heard the news. He found Matsukawa and Hanamaki in the lobby, talking to the detectives assigned to this case.

“Hanamaki, what happened?” Sugawara drops his bags next to the seat Hanamaki occupied as the detective speaking to him turns to ask Matsukawa some more questions.

“Hell if I know.” Hanamaki says, visibly shaken by it all. “Oh, God, Suga, if anything happens to him-”

“He'll be fine, Makki.” Matsukawa places a hand on his shoulder in comfort. “Iwaizumi taught him self defence, remember?”

“What good is that if he's out cold or injured or God forbid killed?”

“Rest assured Makki, if he had been killed, they would have dumped him somewhere by now.”

Sugawara visibly pales at that notion. He shakes his head to get rid of that image – they have to pull themselves together and think positive. It's only been a few hours since he's gone missing.

“Mattsun is right, Makki.” He says, talking both his hands in his. “We have to keep our cool. We can't think such thoughts. He'll be fine. I'm sure.”

“Wait.” Hanamaki frowns a bit, thinking. “Wait. They said a miniature was missing, too, right?”

“Yes.” Matsukawa nods, typing on his phone. “One of Oikawa's. That lady in a grey dress you found a shame it's so tiny.”

“Right. Maybe the kidnappers planned only to take that picture. And Kageyama found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time. It's possible, right, Issei?” He looks up, hopefully, at the other.

“You're not wrong about that.” He says, considering it. “That miniature isn't well known outside the inner circle and a few selected collectors from abroad.”

“That means whoever took the painting must be someone professional. It's not easy to walk in a gallery in the middle of the day, take the miniature and kidnap someone without being seen.” Sugawara ads. “If they knew about the painting, chances are, they recognised Kageyama.”

“They probably took the chance when they saw it and those two back home could expect a ransom note in a few days. It's not impossible. Not very probable either, but not impossible.”

“But why was he there in the first place? He didn't really wander off into a studio like you feared he would, did he?” Sugawara asks, confused.

At that question, the darkest of clouds fell over Hanamaki's face, making the other two blink in surprise.

“ _It seems that Oikawa asked him to do a little something for him_.” He says, a shit eating grin plastered on his face in under a second.

_Oh, God, why._

Matsukawa look ready to throw someone out the first window he sees and Sugawara gains that murderously calm aura and a sweet smile.

“ _Did he?_ ” Sugawara rubs his temple, trying to keep calm.

“ _You know what guys, I think we need to have a little talk with Oikawa when we get back._ ” Pure poison seeped from the tone of his voice, making people step back from them in the lobby and the detectives to look at them suspiciously.

“ _For now, I suggest we inform Iwaizumi of this._ ” He says, gathering his bags.

Yes, Iwaizumi will know  _exactly_ what to do with that information.

“Wait, Suga, there's one more thing.” Hanamaki says, slumping into his seat, looking he's about to cry, al murderous aura gone.

“What?” Sugawara blinks at him, stopping in his tracks.

“ _He asked that guy out._ ” He whines out, looking so miserable, taking out a handkerchief from his sleeve, wiping at the tears. He really can't take it.

“ _He was supposed to go on a date tonight. Why did this have to happen now? Why not tomorrow? It's not fair. Oikawa, you damn idiot, why did you have to call? He's on a vacation, for crying out loud. And things were going so well! Issei, we need to teach Kageyama to send that guy to hell._ ”

_Matchmaker Hanamaki Takahiro. And his priorities._

_Two police officials see him cry and take pity on him, assuring they'll do everything they can to find Kageyama and that everything will be alright, clearly not understanding a word of his Japanese but the scene is both heart-warming and utterly ridiculous, Matsukawa takes a picture of it._

 

_Although, that teaching Kageyama to send Oikawa to hell part is the first thing they're doing after they find him._

 

_Fuck you, Oikawa._

 

* * *

 

 

“You awake?” Bokuto asks as he sees Kageyama stir on the bed, opening his eyes. “Take it easy, you've been out for some time.” He says as he helps him up. “How are you feeling?”

The younger man's nose starts bleeding again as the answer.

“Crap.” Kageyama mutters, pressing his nose with both hands as blood drops on his shirt and the bed linen. “I'm sorry-”

“Nah, don't worry about it. Here.” Bokuto hands him a towel and instructs him to lean his head back. So there's no sign of poisoning on him, that's a relief, but the nosebleed does worry him – hopefully they didn't fuck up something in there permanently.

“I, uh, I brought you some tea – ginger – if that's alright. You should drink some before it gets too cold so you don't get nauseous.”

“Okay.” Kageyama says, holding his head up.

He has no idea who this guy is or where he is at the moment, but he's so soft spoken and helpful that Kageyama can't be worried about it. His head is feels like someone's pressing his temples more and more and it's really unpleasant, to say the least.

He removes the towel to take a sip of the tea the guy there hands him, hoping he won't get any blood in it while doing so.

“I'M SORRY KID.” Bokuto yells all of a sudden and Kageyama jumps, startled. “We really didn't mean to kidnap you or even knock you out with that nasty stuff, it's just that we didn't expect anyone to be there and we sorta panicked and Kuroo's really not a bad person, we-I- I'm really sorry!”

“ _O...kay?_ ”

Kageyama has no idea what he's on about. Not even the slightest. But he really doesn't have the heart to tell him that he didn't see anything – the only thing he remembers is the stench of a chemical and then darkness. But he seems to have been kidnapped, by accident, or so the person tells him and he has no trouble believing that. He just looks too guilty and remorseful to be a cold hearted, ruthless kidnapper. That and no kidnapper would apologise so much and name people. Not that he was kidnapped on a daily basis. It's just his gut feeling.

“I'm Bokuto Koutarou.” Bokuto says holding out his hand, attitude turning a 180 once he saw Kageyama wasn't quick to start screaming. It could be that he was still under a chemically induced daze but it's a start. A good start. “Wanna go downstairs? It think it's better than the stuffed room up here? I'll help you down.”

“Sure.” Why not? If they really did plan to kidnap him, Kageyama reckoned they wouldn't have sent Bokuto-san to take care of him. Besides, the room really was stuffy.

“Take it slow. I was told you might experience headache and nausea so be careful.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

If anything, Bokuto seemed like a nice person. Even if they decide to do him in in the end, at least someone was nice to him.

Downstairs, he ends up lying on the couch, with a can of some cool drink under his neck to help stop the bleeding. Bokuto avoided talking about what he and Kuroo did for their job, although Kageyama could pretty much tell, but they silently agreed that no details were necessary. It all developed into a kind of light chit chat between two long time friends than between an accidental kidnapper and his victim.

“Listen, Kageyama, since you're gonna find out either way, I'd like to make something clear.” Bokuto says as he sits down with his own cup. “Akaashi and Tsukishima are with us and they've been walking around this place ever since we brought you here, pretty much planning out how and where to bury us, but I assure you, they had nothing to do with this.”

“They're here?” Kageyama perks up a bit and Bokuto is so relieved. That was a huge gamble but Bokuto knew that better he be blamed than the kid to be disappointed later on. He took that bet and won it. Maybe that will appease those two. They were really bad at handling Bokuto's mess, not that he would ever tell them that, but then again, they weren't Bokuto. They worried too much and sometimes worry was the exact opposite of what they needed.

Then again, that showed that they cared. They were serious like that.

“Yeah. Akaashi almost kicked my head off when he heard of this. He's not someone one wants to anger, but lately I tend to do just that.”

“Don't worry. If he didn't kill you by now, he won't do it later either.” Kageyama offers, thinking of Oikawa and Iwaizumi. “Maybe. I don't know about Akaashi-san, but I know of someone else close to me. And he's also not someone one wants to anger. They care.”

“You're right about that.” Bokuto agrees enthusiastically. But then he sees how pale he is and how that towel was getting rosy on some places and he quiets down again.

“You okay?” He asks, meek and tiny, although he was not even remotely that.

“What? This?” Kageyama glances at the towel he holds. “Oh, don't worry. This is not the worst that happened to me.”

“Huh?” Bokuto blinks tilting his head, strongly resembling an owl at that point.

“I had my nose broken, twice, sprained ankle, this finer rammed”, he raises the index finger of his right hand, bends it, pushes the first knuckle with his thumb and Bokuto hears an audible pop, “it still pops as a result, ribs cracked and had 27 stitches in total one time some part of a statue broke off and fell on me.” He then stops for a second, as if a thought occurred.

“ _I think I'll stop doing errands for him._ ” He concludes, realising just now how many injuries he sustained just by agreeing to help out. And every single one doing an errand for Oikawa. _Oh, so that's why those four turn into demons every time Oikawa mentions an errand. Makes sense._

“Would you consider joining us?” Bokuto asks, visibly terrified. “We could use someone skilled like you and you would be much safer here.”

“I'll think about it.” Kageyama says as he reaches for his phone on instinct, noticing it's not in his pocket.

“You don't happen to have my phone here, do you?” Kageyama asks, sitting up as his nose stops bleeding.

“What? Oh, no, sorry. I think I stepped on it back in the gallery. I'll pay you back, I promise.”

“No, it's not about that. I have the GPS locator on so...” Kageyama says and Bokuto blinks at him confused.

“I mean, I don't think you want people finding out about this place right now, right? Even if you didn't plan on kidnapping me, it's still considered a crime. But since my phone isn't here, there's no worry.”

“Oh, wow. That is so considerate of you. I didn't even think about that.”

Kageyama simply waves it off.

“Do you get kidnapped often?” Bokuto can't help but ask.

“Nope. First time.” He says, taking another sip of the tea. It really helps his state. Then another thought occurs.

“But if you ever _do_ plan on kidnapping people in the future, I recommend not mentioning anyone or showing your face.”

“I doubt we ever will, but that's good advice. I'll remember that.”

They spend the best part of the afternoon sharing kidnapping advice and best ways to get away with it. The nausea and headache subside and Kageyama can once again breathe freely without fearing his nose running red again.

“Say, can you smell anything?” Bokuto asks as he stands in the kitchen, preparing dinner. The onslaught of different herbs sizzling in the pan along with the rest of the ingredients gives him the idea. Kageyama grabs a bottle of some mild spice from the table he sits at, watching Bokuto work, and takes a careful sniff.

It's a really faint scent, but he can feel it. He doesn't expect his nose to work properly right of the bat after a chemical steaming and excessive nosebleed. He nods at Bokuto, who smiles again.

Good, they didn't poison him or destroy his nose. That's a relief.

“I'm done. I'm gonna see where those two are. The wash room is down the hall to the left if you need it. But let me get you a new shirt before you go.”

With Kageyama in the wash room, towel and clean shirt with him, dinner ready and slowly cooling off on the table, windows open wide to let out the heat of the cooking out, Bokuto takes off the black chef apron, hangs it on it's hook on the wall and walks over to the slide door to see if Akaashi and Tsukishima were done invoking all rages and misfortune upon him and Kuroo. The sun already set and he was getting worried.

He peeks out just in time to see them near the house, not looking all too happy but not looking as if they're ready to poison him either.

 

“ _There you are.” He smiles as he sees them._

_He figures the pale tone of their skin is a result of them walking around the whole afternoon, worrying their pants off and simply being hungry after all that._

 

_Good thing he made that dinner._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I deeply apologise to those who thought this was going to be a "serious" work. I am weak.
> 
> Feel free to chat me up on rain-sparks.tumblr or KoibitoDream.instagram. If you feel like it. No pressure, tho.


	16. Working things out

“Tooru.”

“Y-yes, Iwa-chan?”

“Don't ever send him on an errand again.”

“Yes, Iwa-chan.”

They sat in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs Japan, waiting for the ones dealing with this kind of situation show up to see what can be done and, more importantly, what's the best course of action not to get Kageyama in more danger than he already was.

Oikawa got a 24 hour silence treatment that finally ended with that request of Iwaizumi's. Maybe not exactly a silent treatment since both didn't know what to think or say to all of that so neither said a word for a whole day, but yeah.

_Seriously, Oikawa has the worst of luck when it comes to this. How the hell was he supposed to know he'd get kidnapped? And who the hell kidnaps people in the middle of the day, for crying out loud?_

He really hopes he's alright, though. Hearing it was Tobio-chan's blood left on the now crime scene made his blood freeze. Savages.

“Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime?” A office lady speaks up as she reaches them.

“Yes?”

“This way please; the officials have arrived.”

They got up and followed the woman. She led them down a long corridor with copy pasted doors and chair arrangements, until she made a turn just before the corridor ended.

“Door number 512. Good day.” She bowed before leaving.

“Let's get this over with.” Iwaizumi says, opening the door. Oikawa followed behind.

 

* * *

 

 

“So we just sit and wait?” Sugawara asks, incredulous.

“ _Yes. Nothing else we can do until they see how the situation develops. From what the detectives and forensics concluded over there, Kageyama seems to have surprised them. They just may send in ransom demands. That would be the best thing that can happen if he doesn't somehow show up by himself._ ” Iwaizumi says over his phone.

“And how is Oikawa?”

“ _What can I say. This shell-shocked him. He didn't say a word for a whole day. I mean, I get that Kageyama and Oikawa have the worst luck when it comes to doing favours for each other, but this is too much, even for their standards._ ”

“I can't argue with that.”

“ _But I think he'll be fine. He's not the one to panic and cause trouble in dire situations._ ”

“That reminds me of the time we got to the hospital when he got his stitches. He was the one calming down the doctor.”

“ _Exactly. How are you guys?_ ”

“I'm fine, but Makki's devastated.”

“ _I can imagine..._ ”

“It's not what you think, Iwaizumi.”

“ _It's not?_ ”

“The thing is, Kageyama seems to have met someone.”

“ _Really? Kageyama did?_ ”

“Yes. And he was supposed to have a date later that day, or so I'm told and Makki just couldn't keep it together.”

“ _...I completely understand._ ”

“What's worse, it seems like Kageyama was the one to ask the other out.”

“ _...you're kidding me._ ”

“No.”

“ _...no, no, no, I can't-I can't believe it._ ”

“Makki found his number on Kageyama's phone and explained so _he doesn't think Kageyama ditched him_ and to save his chances for him to get another chance.”

“ _I see. Gotta leave it to Makki to have his priorities straight._ ”

“Truthfully, it didn't even cross my mind.”

“ _So he left his phone behind..._ ”

“Actually, the police found it stepped on under a table. They tried to get a sole print out of it but no luck. Makki's getting it fixed.”

“ _Shame. He usually has his GPS locator on and if the kidnappers panicked, they could have slipped it of their minds and we could have it tracked down, but if you got it then that idea goes down the drain._ ”

“How-”

“ _-do I know? Ever since he got lost on one of Oikawa's quests in Prague I told him to keep it on so I can track him if needed. One can never be too sure._ ”

“We need to talk to them both after this all ends.”

“ _I agree._ ”

 

* * *

 

 

Akaashi and Tsukishima are also at a loss for words as the four of them sit and have quite a pleasant dinner while Bokuto and Kageyama discuss the last football game with Juventus versus A.C. Milan that was on the other night, not because they're football enthusiasts but because there was no volleyball game on.

“Then that guy totally shoved him, I mean come on, everyone could see it but for some reason the referee is blind or something. That should have been a green card.”

“It's a red card.”

“Yes, that, thank you.”

Basically the whole conversation revolves out of commenting such things and correcting each other with Akaashi or Tsukishima tossing in their two cents, not like they know anything more, but it's fun.

Akaashi muttered something about _his plan unexpectedly working_ and moved into the living room with a bottle of red wine. Tsukishima followed suit with a glass of his own.

 

Meanwhile, Kuroo was sitting next to the phone in complete darkness of his apartment, waiting for his judgement but around two in the morning, he concluded the storm had passed and decided to call it a day.

_He slept like a baby._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel the worry.


	17. Second thoughts?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all you Kurotsuki fans, you might wanna skip the part that goes after the sentence "He shouldn't have." Might be what people call angsty. Or not. Your call.

“Dude, this accidental kidnapping may be the best thing ever.” Bokuto says as soon as Kuroo picks up the phone the next morning.

“ _...what._ ”

“The kid's great. We had dinner and discussed some football game.” 

“ _Uh, Bokuto, bro, that's cool and all, but it's still a crime._ ”

“I know.”The owl hoots.

“ _Since when do you watch football anyway?_ ”

“There was nothing else on the TV.”

“ _Oh._ ”

“ _Wait, wait, wait._ ” Kuroo's voice becomes distant and muffled, probably rolling over in his bed; Bokuto did give him a call in like six in the morning. Six fifteen, to be exact. But not the point. “ _So, he's fine?_ ”

“Yeah, a bit pale and wobbly in the knees, but he's gonna make it. I'm gonna stuff some food into him and he'll be as good as new.”

“ _He's not traumatised too much?_ ”

“Nah, he even gave me some advice.”

“ _...on what? No, wait, I don't want to know, actually. I'm just glad he's fine._ ”

“Well at least Tsukishima's gonna have a field day-” Shit. Maybe he shouldn't have mentioned that just now.

“ _Why would Tsukishima have a field day?_ ”

“Uhh, no reason.”

“ _Bokuto?_ ”

Damn him and his big mouth.

“Maaaybe I should shut up now.”

“ _Bokuto, no. What do you mean by that?_ ”

“That you two should probably talk about things.”

“ _...that's low._ ”

“It's not.”

“ _...Bokuto, come on, work with me, I've practically been exiled here._ ”

“How about you work with yourself and sort things out? We can't function like this. _You_ can't function like this. You clearly have something to say if you're asking me.”

The silence that follows confirms that little half speech of his, but it's not like he played entirely fair either.

“ _I hate it when you're right and sensible. You should move away from Akaashi for a while._ ”

“Thanks to you, I'm on the couch for an extended time of unknown length.”

“ _Oh, right, I forgot about that._ ”

“Good because now we're halfway to being even.”

“... _Fine, I'll...see if he wants to hear me out..._ ”

“What the hell did you even do?” Bokuto asks, confusion audible in his voice.

“ _I'm not having this conversation with you._ ” Kuroo states flatly.

“Fine. Just make sure you don't screw it up some more. And don't you dare tell me you won't.”

“ _What the hell should I tell you then?_ ”

“Nothing, for now."

“ _That's probably a good idea._ ”

“I'm full of those lately.”

“ _So I see. Listen, if it's all the same to you, I'm gonna go back to sleep and wake up at some decent hour. I still have to figure out what to do with that miniature. Contact person says it's still green light with them, but I need to wait for a few days._ ”

“What for?”

“ _They have to see what that kid's boss is gonna do about this. If he doesn't fill out a missing person file and post it to Interpol, our reputation is spotless as far as they're concerned._ ”

“Dude, I could just ask the kid.”

“ _Get out._ ”

“No, really. I could.”

“ _...what kind of kidnapping victim is he?_ ”

“A unusually cooperative one. I must have made a good impression.”

“ _Yeah, sure._ ”

“You saying I'm not likeable?”

“ _I never said that._ ”

“You implied it.”

“ _I'm just stating that this whole situation and its development so far is highly unrealistic if not ridiculous._ ”

“Nah, Kuroo, my bro, it's just that you have a extremely long stream of bad luck and I recommend you do something about it before we all end up in jail.”

“ _You suggested we take him with us!_ ”

“Don't change the subject.”

“ _How am I changing the subject?_ ”

“There you go again.”

“ _But-_ ”

“Let it go.”

“ _We'll continue this tonight over a big mac._ ”

“I'm in.”

“ _Great, see you later._ ”

“See you!”

So much for going back to sleep. Damn you Bokuto, you did this on purpose. Must be payback for a year on the couch, he calculates. And why the fuck is he so worked up over Tsukishima having a field day, anyway? Not like he has a say. Since he pretty much burned that bridge and it's ashes so what gives?

_Guilt gives, that's what._

He'll never forget the hurt he saw. He caused.

Damn, Bokuto could walk in on Akaashi having an orgy and his biggest concern would be if he's comfortable enough. But heaven smite him if he ever looks at anyone other than him. Not that Akaashi would mind, it's just how he is.

_Then again, you jackass_ , he thinks,  _maybe you should have come clean to him in the first place and not fucking stabbed him in the back._

Hence the difference as to why Bokuto and Akaashi work and he and Tsukishima don't. In other news, water is wet and fire burns. Great mystery of the Universe unveiled.

Sucks to be him at the moment because he still doesn't want to think about it but he must. Otherwise it'll haunt his ass forever.

 

_He shouldn't have._

 

_He shouldn't have been so stupid and try to heal his broken heart when he had one aching as well. He shouldn't have been so stupid not to come clean and tell him what that whole thing really was. An attempt to forget someone else._

 

“ _So you used me. I get it. Now get out.”_

 

_He shouldn't have been so stupid and ignore Tsukishima as a whole. Ignore all the signs so obviously glaring at him. Let him believe a lie he's been telling himself. Build a tower of cards on unstable grounds. Insist on that lie until it shattered right in his face. He didn't have it in him to deceive on the long run. He shouldn't have been so stupid as to keep silent on what he really wanted out of that relationship._

_He shouldn't have been so stupid._

_But he was._

 

_Never in his life was he ever sorry for anything like he was for that situation._

 

_It's not that he didn't care. It's that he couldn't._

 

_Damn it all to hell,_

_he really needs to talk to Tsukishima._

_Maybe this time around he decides to break his face._

_Anything but that look._

 

“ _Damn you Bokuto and your stupid actually great advice, I fucking love you and hate you at the same time you damn owl rip-off._ ” He mutters into his pillow he usually abuses for hairstyling purposes.

_Fuck it, he needs to get things done today._

_He'll wallow in self hate and misery another day._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo the actually realistic person of them all Tetsurou, people.


	18. Why not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing housekeeping Bokuto Koutarou and a doubtful Tsukishima Kei

It wasn't all that close to alcohol poisoning, but Akaashi did finish a whole bottle of wine minus one glass he poured Tsukishima. Your head and stomach will still not agree with you in the morning, as Akaashi had the honours of finding out for himself.

He spent a whole ten minutes longer in the bathroom downstairs, trying to get a grip of himself.

This bullshit really worked.

Though even he was surprised at how well Kageyama took all this.

Not that he'll complain.

“Morning, Akaashi.” Bokuto says as he drags himself less that gracefully from the bathroom before placing a kiss on his cheek and a big cup of coffee in his hand.

“Morning...” Usually, Akaashi was more of a morning person than Bokuto. Usually. When he didn't finish a whole bottle by himself, that is. Let's not dwell on that right now.

“Couch too hard to sleep on?” He asks, glancing at the clock and scoffing at the unholy time.

“I'll live.”

“You can move back to the bedroom if you can't sleep there.” Akaashi states before getting a one of Bokuto's blankets and moving to the patio to enjoy the sun rise.

Bokuto tears up on the spot and Tsukishima finds him in that state some ten minutes after Akaashi had made himself comfortable outside on one of the sun loungers nobody bothered to move last night.

“Didn't I move out to get away from you two?” Tsukishima asks Akaashi as he makes himself comfortable outside.

“I believe that was your original plan, yes.”

“And that changed because?”

“Now, now, Tsukishima, I can't leave Kageyama alone here, what are you thinking?”

“So it's Jane Austen's novel now?”

“Blame Kuroo and Bokuto for this.”

“Blame the person you just granted a pardon?”

Akaashi merely sips at his coffee.

“Tell you what. Keep to the apartment in the back downstairs and you can stay.”

“How generous.”

“You're still paying your share of the rental for this place.”

“Fair enough.”

They stare at the sun rise, obscured by some thick clouds passing. Thankfully, the temperature today seems to be lower than the past few days and by the looks of it, it's gonna stay that way. Maybe he should visit the beach. Mid calf at best but it will count as getting into the water.

“So what's the news?” Tsukishima asks, trying to determine the water temperature by staring at it from a distance.

“Nothing. They covered the break in and kidnapping as a leaking pipe.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“Are we to expect a SWAT team breaking in in a day or two?”

“I'm not sure. I'm guessing they're keeping it low and are more or less hoping for a ransom note. If they're smart and they are, they will put the priority on Kageyama rather than a painting that can easily be tracked down. Other than that, I have no idea how they will approach the matter.”

“What do we do? We can't just keep him here in house arrest.”

“We can't exactly leave him on the side of a road either.”

“I still can't believe we pulled this through.” Tsukishima says, amazed.

“I still can't believe he went along with it.” Is what Akaashi can't wrap his head around. “He's really something.”

“Thank God for Bokuto and his methods.”

“True that.”

And then they both burst out laughing. This pretty much felt like taking the Pietá and getting away with it.

“I still have to figure out how to talk to him.” Tsukishima says, leaving the empty mug aside.

“Try words.”

“Thank you, Akaashi, that was very helpful.”

“You're welcome.”

“I'll send Bokuto to get some stuff.” Tsukishima says as he gets up, picking up the mug and returns to the house. He doubts Kageyama would be up after all the stress yesterday, but wouldn't hurt to start talking to him again. Even if he doesn't know what to say yet.

“Pick a day and get lost for the duration of it.” He informs Bokuto, who's in the middle of gathering the bedding from the couch and he's struggling to keep it all in his arms and not trip on the way to the bedroom.

“Huh? Why?”

“You and Kuroo owe me a date.”

“How's us getting scarce sound?”

“Wonderful, but Akaashi has other plans.” Meaning Akaashi is being a little shit and refuses to budge.

“Okay, how's a weekend sound?” Little shit Akaashi wins by default.

“Much better.”

“I'll have us out of the house then.”

“Much appreciated.” Tsukishima says, dumping the mug into the sink. “Also, you're in the back downstairs.”

“Okay.”

“Is he up?”

“Haven't seen him yet.”

“Would you pick some things up for him?”

“Sure, I'm off to Rome in a few anyway.”

“Thank you.”

“What do you need?”

“The usual stay over stuff. Also, pick up some brushes and paint.”

“Right. I'm off. There's some left over dinner in the fridge. And the pantry is full if you want to make something else.”

Seeing how Akaashi probably dozed off again outside and Bokuto left for Rome, Tsukishima found himself standing in the middle of the kitchen in his sleepwear and no idea on what to do. Did he prefer coffee or tea in the morning, or nothing at all? Maybe a light toast? And how was it that yesterday only Bokuto had a normal conversation with him? Well, as normal as it gets considering the circumstances.

Also, this whole situation resembled that of having a boyfriend sleep over with your elder brothers in the house as well. Then again, not even his own brother would make the situation so... _awkward?_ Maybe because he was technically a hostage?

“Good morning.” Kageyama shows up, all dressed and tidy and Tsukishima now feels like a slob on top of everything else.

“Good morning. Sleep well?” Wow. What do you know. This using words thing works.

“Yes.”

“Coffee? Tea?”

“Got milk?”

“Of course.”

And as Tsukishima reaches for the milk in the fridge, he can't help but think  _how fucking awkward this is. God._

“Uh, look, Kageyama-”

“If you're worried about what Oikawa and the rest will do, you can relax. They're probably sitting in the police station, listening to what they plan on doing, probably getting advice on not to do anything harsh or stupid and let them handle it. Also, they probably think I'll manage. Though Makki-san could be freaking out.”

_Holy shit, this guy is even more outrageous than Bokuto._

“Besides, it seems like Bokuto-san stepped on my phone so they can't locate me here.”

_Yep, definitely._

“You're handling this extremely well.” Tsukishima opts to say in the end as he places a mug of milk on the counter where Kageyama sat down.

“I see no point in panicking. Even less when Bokuto-san explained everything. He and Kuroo-san aren't very good at this.”

“Tell me about it.” Tsukishima snorts and somehow the awkwardness lessens. “The amount of bullshit those two can pull off when unsupervised is now crowned with you being here."

“I see you don't have it easy with them.”

“Not the slightest.”

“Well, if you have no immediate plans, I think the best course of action as to not worsen the situation is that we bring you back. I just have to figure out how.”

“I can always say I never saw the kidnappers and bailed the first opportunity I got. Maybe send a few fake ransom notes just in case to make it more trustworthy.”

“They would believe that?”

“I don't see why not. I had special training with one of my superiors in case situations like this happen.”

“You don't say.”

“Nothing much, though. I'm grateful it's you and not some armed professionals.”

“Why thank you.” Tsukishima offers a small smile. “Won't your friends be too worried?”

“Yes, but I can't deal with them and Oikawa right now. They're great, they really are, but...”

“I get it. I just think you may have traded one bunch with another here, is all.”

“It's still a change, though.”

Their conversation is cut short by a buzz of Tsukishima's phone on the counter by the window where he left it to charge up.

“Sorry.” He says as he reaches for it.

“Go ahead.” Kageyama says as he gets up and takes the mug with him, leaving the kitchen to give him some privacy.

 

_From: Kuroo_

_I know you probably still hate my guts but I was wondering if we could talk. - Kuroo_

 

_Really? Now? Your timing is impeccable as always,_ he thinks, pursing his lips.

Thing is, he doesn't want to talk. He'd be perfectly fine not talking to him for the rest of his life.  _Especially in this situation._

Then again, it is Kuroo he has to thank for it... He can always let him rant out whatever he has to say and get it over with. Tsukishima should know how that can end if not dealt with accordingly.

But he doesn't know how he would react to him. The last thing he needs is some damn sentiment to resurface. He avoided thinking about what happened ever since Kuroo closed the doors behind him. Tsukishima was more than fine with that. So why was he still avoiding him?

He still hurt, maybe that's why.

He hated to admit it, but it still hurt. Or was it that he was simply still angry? Could it be that he still has some attachments in that sense? To hell with it, maybe that damn talk is long overdue. Neither Bokuto nor Akaashi said a word but this situation between them clearly can't go on any more.  _They ended up kidnapping a person for god's sake._

And now there's Kageyama, whom he likes but has no idea where this is going. For all he knew, he could snap out of it and-nah, all evidence presented stated that not likely to happen.

So what does he have here, anyway?

Kuroo, who probably meant well but fucked up majorly, wanting to talk. About what? No clue. It could be about anything, really.

Kageyama, who's certainly an interesting individual that didn't fuck anything up and Tsukishima also didn't want to fuck up anything because he really enjoyed his company. But everything about him was new.

To say he had it all sorted out would be a lie. God forbid he ends up doing the same to him what- 

 

_Enough. They need to talk._

 

_To: Kuroo_

_Fine._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Enter Akaashi while no one's around.


	19. A new rival?

Break ups are never pretty. Civilised at best, but not pretty. Especially not the one Tsukishima and Kuroo went through. Or more like, Kuroo brought upon himself. Thinking about it not what anyone wants to do, talking even less.

But it's something that has to be done.

“I...I got something to deal with, do you mind staying here with Akaashi?” Tsukishima says as he walks into the living room.

“I don't. Where is Akaashi-san?”

“He's probably taking a nap outside. He woke up real early, I guess.”

“Okay. See you.”

“See you.”

To say that he hates this situation would be the closest to the truth he can possibly get without turning vulgar. He got dressed and got his car keys from the corner piece standing in the entry before heading out. Upon closing the car door, he remains seated and still for a few moments. Whatever. The sooner he gets this thing over with, the better.

_Like pulling out a tooth._

 

But finding himself seated in a rather secluded corner of a restaurant run by a friend of his childhood friend makes him question this decision. While waiting for Kuroo to show up.

_Why was he doing this again?_

_Oh, right. To not repeat the same mistake._

Kuroo walks in a few minutes later and the waiter directs him to where Tsukishima sat, not at all happy to be there, if that cold stare was anything to go by. _Shit, how does one go about this? All of his previous break ups went more or less smoothly, seeing how both sides agreed on it. But this? New uncharted territory and now he really hopes he doesn't fuck it up. Again. Oh, boy, this heavy air is not helping one bit._

“Hey th-” He begins as he sits down across him, but Tsukishima isn't here for the pleasantries.

“You wanted to talk, so talk.” _Obviously._

_One can always rely on Tsukishima to ease up the situation, gotta love him for that._

“Uh...”

_Oh, well, fuck it. Here goes nothing._

 

“ _I'm sorry._ ” Is the first thing that comes out as he sits down and it comes out so heartfelt it surprises them both. “I know I fucked up. I should have told you where I was going with that, I didn't. I let it spiral out of control and you ended up hurt. I didn't want that to happen. I really didn't. I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that. I'll understand if you decide not to see my face ever again, but either way, I'm grateful you gave me a chance to rant out. Thank you.”

 

“You done?” Tsukishima asks after a full minute pause.

“Uh, yes?”

“I can't bring myself to care any more about that. I really can't. Nor do I want to. I get that you had some issues and you really just should have said it the first time around, but don't you dare call me in a few days and tell me something about wanting us to get back together because that's not happening.”

“...okay?”

“Good. Glad we have that over and done with.”

“...so can we go back to being friends”, Kuroo starts, “butnotrightnowwhenyou'rereadythatis?” He blabbers out as Tsukishima shoots him a look.

“I don't know. Maybe. Just not right now.”

“Sure.” Okay. He can live with that. On the bright side, he didn't throw a chair in his face. That's always a good sign. But was he always this...uh.. _.cold?_

 

For a break up that had him sleepless for months, this conversation went rather painless. Maybe Bokuto was right. Maybe he just needed to get it off his shoulders and just speak his mind. _Tsukishima sure spoke his mind loud and clear._

 

“What's bothering you?” The bespectacled male asks as the waiter retreats after placing their order.

“Huh?” Kuroo blinks at him, unsure what he meant.

“Akaashi told me you had it rough before I joined you and to be careful but I didn't listen. What happened?” He elaborates.

Kuroo relaxes his shoulders a bit. Maybe he wasn't that cold after all.

“I lost someone close to me. I thought I coped with it after a year but I didn't. Then you came along and I thought I could...I don't know...do something about it. The rest you know. Bokuto and Akaashi warned me, too, but I also didn't listen. I refused to admit I was still lost to that degree.”

“And now?”

“Now? Can't say I'm lost to that degree any more. You helped. This whole situation helped. Like someone splashed me with a bucket of cold water and punched me in the face.” Kuroo admits, not too proud of that fact, but hey. If this friends thing is to work, he better be honest this time around.

“You're welcome.”

“Thanks.” The older of the two smiles for what felt in ages. “How are you?”

“I met someone.” He says and Kuroo can't help but grin at him.

“Oh? Someone I know?”

“ _Oh, you've seen him, alright._ ”

“Really? Who? Where did I see him?”

“ _You and Bokuto accidentally kidnapped him._ ” Tsukishima says and lets it settle in. Kuroo doesn't take long to react.

 

“ _WHAT THE-_ ”

_Oh the look on Kuroo's face is beyond priceless._

 

And while Tsukishima and Kuroo were sorting things out, back in the house Kageyama worried about the gathering clouds when Akaashi didn't come back inside even after half an hour had passed since Tsukishima left to deal with his business.

“Akaashi-san”, Kageyama taps his shoulder lightly, waking him up, “you might want to come inside. It's gonna rain.”

“What? Oh...thank you, I'll be right in.” Akaashi mutters half asleep. Damn, how did that happen? Oh, right. Never mind. “Where's Tsukishima?”

“He said he had something to deal with.”

“And you actually stayed here?” He teases light as he gets up, taking the cup and blanket with him.

“Well it's not that I actually know where I am and it looks like rain, so...”

They both laugh at that while getting into the house. If they really were kidnappers, this one would have been a delight to kidnap.

 

Bokuto came back an hour later, bringing loads of stuff with him.

“Here”, he says as he puts various brushes and paints into Kageyama's hands with a wide smile, “courtesy of Tsukishima. He thought you might like it.”

And with that, he disappears on the upper floor with some additional bags before retreating into his new bedroom.

Akaashi had a field day, watching Kageyama turn scarlet.

“Say, Kageyama-kun”, Akaashi began as Bokuto disappeared behind closed doors, “there is something I would like to ask of you.”

“Yes?”

He stepped a bit closer to him, leaning in.

“ _Come with me._ ” He whispers, as if Bokuto might hear him.

 

_Kageyama raises an eyebrow at this but doesn't question when Akaashi takes his free hand and leads him upstairs._

 


	20. Between you and me

When Tsukishima arrives back home, he has a sight to behold.

He finds Bokuto happily weaving his culinary magic in the kitchen with several cookbooks opened on the counter, listening to the radio blasting some pop music. He hears movement coming from the upstairs and goes to check.

Akaashi's standing in front of a canvas with a somewhat shorter Kageyama right behind him, his hand on Akaashi's as he guides it across the white surface, talking in a soft hushed voice.

There's something about that picture that makes him stop at the doorway and lean against it to observe the two. He's barely around to see Akaashi work and he'd hate to disturb this atmosphere.

_Seeing Akaashi almost smitten is also a rare delight._

He can't really blame him, though, Kageyama moves so easily, so smoothly across the canvas as if Akaashi's hand isn't even there, as if the brush lies solely in his own hand. The painting itself isn't anything priceless or copied, a scenery someone decided on to get his point across. Tsukishima has seen that style before.  _Impasto_ is what the technique is called. It was firstly sought out by artist such as Rembrandt to portray folds in clothing, mixed in with more delicate painting, but it's the Impressionism that brings it out – Van Gogh used it the most.

Tsukishima isn't very experienced in distinguishing great techniques from decent ones, he learns along the way, but the look on Akaashi's face tells him his is among the first ones.

_I see you're having fun,_ he conveys with a raised eyebrow and a small smile on his lips as Akaashi glances his way.

Akaashi merely rolls his eyes and keeps ignoring him in favour of Kageyama and his own deep concentration on the work before him, so intense, it draws even Tsukishima in all the way from the door.

“ _I prefer it more expressive, like this._ ” Kageyama says, voice lowered, sharply jerking his wrist as he applies the thick paint on the canvas in quick short strokes. “ _Stronger colours, sharper contrast..._ ”

Tsukishima feels goosebumps all over his arms just by looking at them; Akaashi closes his eyes almost leaning against Kageyama as the latter immerses himself fully in creating something only he can see at this point.

Stroke after stroke, layer after layer and it comes to light, a small window into his thought process and they can see a glimpse of what he sees and Tsukishima finds himself not breathing. _This is it_ , he thinks, _this is what he cannot do_. This creation that looks so easy when he does it, as if what he sees just pours out from the brush, spilling on the surface. He _makes it_ look so easy.

Akaashi isn't in any better shape; blinking as he tries to regain focus.

It's easy to fall, swept by this wave that is Kageyama Tobio with a passion for what he does – a passion that doesn't burn but lulls you gently deep within, stirring everything and everyone to life when he wants it.

He doesn't see when Akaashi leans in, whispering something against Kageyama's ear, getting that half teasing half burning look, as if he could lean in and just-

“Want to try?” Kageyama asks Tsukishima and he finally snaps out of his daze, turning his attention to him, blinking slowly, as if he forgot where he was.

 

_If you don't make a move, I will_ .

 

The stare down between him and Akaashi is brief, but effective.

“...sure.”

Kageyama's not sure why, but his answer makes him smile. Nah, scratch that, he knows. _Also, Makki confirmed it, so it has to be true._ _Whether that's a good idea is another story._

Akaashi leaves them be, retreating down stairs where he finds an extremely pleased with himself Bokuto, who immediately turns his attention to him with a smug knowing smile.

“What?” Akaashi asks as he sits down by the counter, picking at the culinary creations Bokuto made with a fork.

Bokuto remains silent but the smile grows wider.

“Kou-”

“ _You like him._ ”

Bokuto now resembles the Cheshire cat with that grin that would make even Kuroo jealous, and Akaashi is speechless.

 

“Don't be ridiculous, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi then manages.

“No, no, no, don't you  _Bokuto-san_ me.” He ruffles his dark already messy hair. “Nothing wrong with that. Nice to see you not storming around with thoughts darker than the abyss.”

Akaashi scoffs at that, batting Bokuto's arm away from his hair.

“So did those two talk?”

“Kuroo cancelled our dinner arrangements sounding extremely relieved so I think they did.”

“By the way, what plans do you have for this weekend?”

“None.”

“How about I take you somewhere?”

“Oh? Where to?”

“Let me keep that to myself.” Bokuto winks.

“Alright.” Akaashi smiles.

 

 

_To: Cat-man_

_Kuroo, bro, help, suggest me some good place for the weekend._

_To: Hoot Hoot_

_San Giminiagno._

_To: Cat-man_

_What's there?_

_To: Hoot Hoot_

_A torture museum._

_To: Cat-man_

_Seriously._

_To: Hoot Hoot_

_Take him to Modena and buy him a car._

_To: Cat-man_

_Dude, that's a great idea. Thanks._

_To: Hoot Hoot_

_You're welcome._

 


	21. A noble heart, confused

The weekend came and right when Kuroo thought he would have some peace and quiet and quite frankly nothing to do, there's a knock on the door and it's familiar.

He's greeted by warm honey eyes looking at him calmly with a small smile on his lips.

“ _Hey there._ ” He says and Kuroo smiles as well as he steps back and lets him in.

“What happened to your trip with Akaashi?” Kuroo asks as Bokuto sheds his jacket.

“He said I better not neglect you and he has some things to deal with on his own so here I am. You look like you could use some company.”

“He's not mad at me any more?” Kuroo blinks, not believing what he hears.

“Nope.”

“Wow. What happened?” They both moved to the living room, making themselves comfortable.

“Let's say you and Tsukishima sorted things out and the presence of our new guest does them both good.” Bokuto winks at Kuroo and he's all ear in a second.

“ _Do tell._ ”

“I swear that kid is some sort of natural Casanova when it comes to those two. You should have seen Akaashi, he's smitten.”

“Dude, send me a pic.”

“You could visit some time, too.”

“Nah, it's too soon. I don't want any awkwardness there. We kidnapped his crush of all people for crying out loud. I'm still amazed. To tell you the truth I really thought I'd end up jealous when he told me he found someone.”

“Are you?”

“A bit, yes.” He admits with a small smile. “But I'm more happy that I didn't ruin romance for him.”

“And where are you with all that?”

“ _I guess I'm still haunted by my past._ ” He says.

“Kuroo...”

“...”

“ _Tetsu._ ”

_Tetsu. It's been a while since he heard that. Maybe too long.  
_

 

“ _It's not fair, Kou._ ” He whispers, burying his face into his hands, feeling extremely exhausted all of a sudden. “ _God, it's so not fair._ ”

Bokuto shifts from his seat and is gently tugging Kuroo's hands from his face, leaning in for a soft kiss.

“Wha-”

“ _You are so dumb._ ” Bokuto mouths against his lips, pulling him back. Whatever confusion settled in Kuroo is now replaced by a warm comfort of Bokuto's hands holding him steady and his lips against his. He never melted this fast under his touch.

“ _Akaashi's gonna kill me._ ” He mutters later, hair even more messed up than usual as he lays against his chest, lips still tingling.

“Uhh, Tetsu...I think even the rocks forming the Gibraltar know about this thing between us.” Bokuto says with a laugh.

 

“...what?” He shifts to take a good look at him.

“I see were both dumber than dirt.” Bokuto slides his hand down his arm, sending shivers across his skin. “He has no objections to us like this. I thought you knew.”

“But-I-wh- _you god damn moron-_ ”

“Hey, you were dead set on Tsukishima so I didn't want to butt in.” Bokuto answers the questions forming in Kuroo's head while he's busy gaping like a fish. “You screwed me over with that.”

“ _What the fuck, Bokuto?_ ” Kuroo ends up laughing and crying at the same time as the absurdity of the situation finally settles in. “No way. The hell...No.”

“You ask _me_ what the fuck? I didn't think you'd waltz over to Tsukishima so quickly. I thought I misread something there.”

“ _Bokuto Koutarou, you're not exactly the two way type._ ”

“What? Of course not. But you and Akaashi are different.”

“ _How the fuck it this different?_ ” Did he go down the rabbit hole at some point? Accidentally consumed something illegal? He must have poisoned himself back then when he knocked that kid out. That's it. The only logical explanation he can comprehend.

_You're you_ , Bokuto's confused look states as he looks at him,  _and he's him. What's confusing you?_

_What, indeed._

“So let me get a few things straight before I fuck something up again. _Or misunderstand it._ ” Kuroo sits up fully, feeling a headache creeping up at him. “I was heartbroken over that guy. You and Akaashi have me all figured and sorted out between you. I fucked you up by fucking myself and ultimately Tsukishima up all at once because I didn't stop to think about that possibility.”

_That's about right_ , Bokuto thinks as he nods.

“Don't tell me you seriously thought I'd ignore you all of a sudden?”

“No. But you were all about Akaashi back then.”

“Yes, but I didn't know where you stood with all that. That thing you had with that guy really did a number on you. I figured you needed more time. Hell, I needed more time to figure myself out. I had a crush on you for years and I only noticed it when Akaashi pointed it out. I felt like an idiot. And then I had to figure out what to do about it. I didn't want to confuse you even more.”

“But then I made a move of my own.”

“...but then you made a move of your own.”

It took Kuroo several minutes to reply to that one.

“You're right, I'm dumber than dirt.” He states simply, lying back down on Bokuto.

“Don't worry, we both are.” Bokuto laughs.

“No wonder Akaashi's pissed at me, I made you worry.”

“Well now he won't be cause you're not worrying me any more.”

“Can we just not talk about this for the rest of our lives?”

“Sure.”

“So what's Akaashi up to?”

“I think he's sending out some fake ransom demands.” Bokuto says, threading his fingers through Kuroo's hair. “Kid's idea.”

“...right.” _What the hell is that kid?_

“But we should figure out how to bring him back without getting ourselves arrested.”

“I think it's best we leave that to Akaashi.”

Bokuto can't deny that's a great idea. Who knows what might happen otherwise.

 

_Kuroo can't shake off the feeling that Akaashi must be laughing his ass off somewhere. Oh, well, can't say he didn't deserve that._

 

_But for now, he won't think at all._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some BoKuroo(Aka)


	22. Almost

The morning everyone scattered saw Tsukishima seat by the counter, immersed in a cup of hot black coffee. He demanded an empty house, he got just that.

But now that he had it, he almost regretted it.

Put frankly, he had no idea what he was doing. He wasn't the one to make the first move usually, but there's a first time for everything. And why not? It's been a while since he was interested in anything or anyone. _Nothing wrong with that_ , as Akaashi liked to remind him on a daily basis. Like he's the one to talk with that thing going on with Bokuto, Kuroo and him. How and why he put up with was beyond Tsukishima on all levels. He sure liked it complicated.

But enough about them – they'll come to some sort of agreement, he's sure – he needs to focus on himself and the one upstairs.

He takes a sip from the mug, letting out a heavy sigh. He hadn't felt this giddy and nervous since...actually never. He felt like laughing at the stupidest things. What was he? A sixteen year old love struck fool? Not exactly. It came close, though.

It was nice, actually. It was nice to feel a smile tugging at his own lips when he would think about him. Granted, he still knew something next to nothing about him. _But that is easily changed._

Talking to him so far wasn't a problem. He wasn't one to sugar-coat his words or hide his thoughts. That much was clear. It's also clear that a rejection is the least likely, so what's holding him back?

His thoughts are interrupted by a heavy sound coming from the room above. He hurries up to see what happened.

“Kageyama?” He voices himself in front of his room, raising a hand to knock on it. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“ _Yeah, I'm fine._ ” He hears him say. The doors open and there he is, hair still a mess, as if he got up just recently.

“I knocked down the table by accident.” Kageyama says, returning to inspect the damage before lifting the thing. Tsukishima lend him a hand.

“How did that happen?”

“Your bookshelves are high.”

A snort erupts from Tsukishima before he has a chance to do something about it. A light dusting appears on Kageyama's cheeks at that as he shifts on his feet in embarrassment.

“Did you at least get what you wanted?”

“...no.”

“Which one?” The taller of the two turns to the shelf, only now noting that it is rather high. He also notes that one of the books peeked out.

“Here.” He hands the book over, some anatomy related literature in Italian.

Kageyama takes it with a small nod of his head and flips a few pages before stopping at a chapter depicting hands.

“I have the same one back home.” He informs Tsukishima who didn't even notice he was leaning over it. “It's detailed and full of examples rather than endless pages of written description.”

“..you're going to paint?” Tsukishima asks when Kageyama leaves the open book on the table and moves the easel opposite of the window.

“Yes. That one's finished.” He points to the one they worked on two days ago.

“...” Tsukishima bit his lower lip but decided what the hell, might as well ask, “...may I watch?”

“Sure, make yourself comfortable.” The other replies coolly as he checks the brushes. It's been years since he worked with tempera paint. No special dilutions needed, just a bit of water. He should try water colours again, too. There are a few things he would like to do in water colours.

Then one after another, a whole series of things he would like to paint begins flashing in front of his eyes. _Fields, skies, mountains, shores, cities, heaps of pebble, drapes of fabric under different light and of different material,_ his eyes wander briefly to Tsukishima, _maybe a portrait..._

It's been a while since he had an urge to do his own things...

Sculpting would be great also, clay or play-doh even, who cares, his fingers itch and he feels like putting together the Basilica from matchsticks and glue. God, he feels like a kid.

“Is there a pencil somewhere?” He asks.

“Here you go.” The other says as he finds one in the drawer of the table. “Do you have enough light?”

“This is perfect.”

 _He's so different when he works_ , Tsukishima thinks as they indulge into a small conversation as Kageyama draws lines and curves, outlining, sketching, making some kind of small markings, probably what colour he wanted where on the canvas.

“Sorry, what?”

“How do you usually work?” Tsukishima can't help but ask. For some reason, that question is what eats him up alive.

“With a pair of headphones and classical music. I like Vivaldi's _Seasons_.”

_He knew it. Must be some restaurateur thing._

“Now that you mention it, I should get a new one. I've reached the point where I have to twist and turn the cable to get both earbuds to function properly.”

“Yeah, you should definitely get a new pair. That one's done for.”

“...is it weird that I have a special attachment to them?”

“Not at all. I still have the same pair I bought ten years ago. I also have a dead pair I got from my brother before I embarked to Europe when I was still in photography.”

“You have a brother?”

“Yes, an older one. We're still in touch. I just rarely see him because of our jobs. He travels and I travel a lot.”

“I'm an only child.”

“You are?”

“Yeah. My parents are always on the move, too. I think I switched between at least ten schools before we agreed I was old enough to take care of myself and left me to attend a high school properly. We also stayed in touch. They're in Canada right now. Diplomats, both of them.”

“How did they take their only son going to art school?”

Kageyama leaves the pencil on the easel before dipping the brush in green and mixing it with a bit of yellow.

“They were surprised, of course. I was, too. But I think they slept better when I told them I chose restoration and art history together. Dad asked me to replicate the family photo on a small canvas. They were delighted.”

“Did you ever pick up a brush before your college days?”

“Not once. But with the proper teacher and some good will, you can pick up the basics real fast. Have you ever heard of Joseph Mallord William Turner?”

“The...romanticism landscape painter?” He's amazed he actually remembered it.

“Yes. They made a movie about his life in 2014 with Timothy Spall starring as Mr. Turner.”

“That I heard.”

“Timothy Spall took a year to get the paint business done.”

“One can really do that in just a year?”

“Yes. Helps if you have a bit of affinity towards it.”

“How long did you take?”

“Like I said I was an atypical student, even for their standards. When I wasn't in a gallery or in class, I was risking poisoning in the studio's of the University. I still have a load of things to learn but I like to think I got at least a few techniques down.”

“Your impasto looks great.” Tsukishima says as he glances at the finished painting.

“Thank you.” Kageyama smiles a bit before concentrating back on the canvas.

_That smile of yours is also great._

_Which brings him to what he actually wants to address._

“Kageya-”

 

“ _KAGEYAMA! TSUKISHIMA!_ ” They hear someone yell from the downstairs making them both jump.

_Now what?_

“We're up!” Tsukishima yells back.

_Akaashi skips two stairs at a time and reaches them in record time._

 

“ _Sorry to cut things short”, he states, leaning against the door, “but I think Kageyama needs to go home soon.”_

 


	23. Finally, a note

“Hajime, I can't sit still any more.” Oikawa says as the other walks through the doors of Oikawa's office. “There's no news, no progress, no note, no nothing.”

“I know, Tooru, but we don't exactly have people to deal with this.”

“...”

“Hajime.”

“No.”

“Haaajimeee.”

“ _No.”_

“But-”

“I said _no_.”

“Stingy!”

“NO, Oikawa, you'll only make things worse.”

“That is _so not-_ okay, it's true, but maybe I'm the main objective here! I don't want them chopping off Tobio-chan's fingers or ear or whatever else convenient!”

“I think it's safe to assume they'd done that by now.” Iwaizumi says, crossing his arms.

“A package for Oikawa-san.” An assistant of the secretary says as she knocks on the door, leaving the small package on his desk before leaving again.

The two were left to stare at it in horror.

“...it's...rather small...” Oikawa begins, pale as a sheet of paper.

Iwaizumi said nothing but turned the package upside down. He, too, did not look so well.

“It's from Italy.”

Oikawa stopped breathing at this point as Iwaizumi just swallowed thickly and grabbed a pair of scissors from the desk to open it. The box lay unsealed but neither was too hot to open it. They merely stared at it in complete silence, wary as if it's gonna jump on them.

The sudden ring of a phone startled them both with Oikawa shouting some unintelligible things in yet another foreign language. He grabbed the damn thing from it's charger.

“ _WHAT?!_ ” He accidentally yells, still feeling his own heart hammering in his ribcage. Iwaizumi sighed heavily, holding himself up on the desk.

“Oh, Suga...No, I...I'm sorry...It's-what is it?” Oikawa returns to a normal volume, eyeing the damn cardboard box with something between resentment and outright hostility.

“ _They did?_ ” Iwaizumi looks at him as he nearly chokes himself on the cord of the phone. “Wha-what's it say?”

An agonizing moment passes where Iwaizumi can only watch as tension rises in him before he suddenly deflates, falling on his ass on the floor.

“That's it?” Oikawa asks, fighting several emotions bubbling up in his chest at once. “You sure? That-that isn't a joke? It's the real thing? Okay. _Thank you. Why yes, by all means, just don't-I swear I'll never send him on an errand by himself again! Okay. Sure. Bye._ ”

“Iwa-chan!” He's near bawling by the end of the conversation. “They send in a ransom note!”

Now Iwaizumi's on the floor, too.

“ _Oh thank goodness..._ ”Iwaizumi feels his legs shaking. “What do they want?”

“Oh, they say they'll keep the painting and return Tobio-chan _if_ no one makes a ruckus out of it. They'll send in the time and date later today. No police and all that.”

“.. _.that's it?_ ”

Oikawa eagerly nods.

“...you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“...” Iwaizumi opens his mouth but words won't come out. _Is it really that easy?_

“ _And if they don't keep their word I'll find them and make them wish they were never born._ ” Oikawa ads sweetly, taking a complete turn on attitude.

_...well this better work._

 

Iwaizumi feels a pair of arm around him as Oikawa leans in and hugs him. He returns the embrace and they remain like that for a good while until they calm down.

“I think it's safe now to check the box.” Iwaizumi says later, lying on the floor with Oikawa against him.

“...what box?” Oikawa blinks, completely confused.

Iwaizumi merely points on the now less threateningly looking box on his desk.  _Oh, that box. Shit, he completely slipped it off his mind._

They get up from the floor and open the thing to reveal-

- _a Murano glass set._

 

“Oh, it's finally here!” Oikawa smiles happily. “I forgot I ordered it.” He laughs. “What do you think, Hajime?”

“...you're an idiot.”

“Iwa-chan, rude!”

“It looks nice.” He comments as Oikawa takes out a glass.  


“Do you think we could fit in our schedule to go over there?” Oikawa asks, holding the blue tinted glass up to the light.

“I think we can.”

“Great, grab your passport before we're late for our flight?”

“..what the-”

“No time for idle chit chat, Iwa-chan, our reservations will expire.”

“...”

“IWA-CHAN MIND THE GLASS!”

 

 

Back in Italy, Sugawara hangs up the phone and turns to Matsukawa.

“Do you still think it's a good idea to keep this from the police?” He asks warily as he glances at the note Matsukawa brought with him from his morning coffee ritual.

“Sugawara, if I can deal with something myself, I don't want anyone involved who might cause a distraction. The less people know about this, the better.”

“But-”

“It'll be fine.”

“Should we tell Hanamaki?”

“Not yet. We'll wait and see when and where we're supposed to pick him up. He feels bad enough about the whole ordeal without false hopes.”

Sugawara can't really argue with that. Never mind the fact that he feels more down about Kageyama's failed date than the actual kidnapping. He's a tough and a smart kid. Besides, from what they had, the kidnappers had no intention of harming him and right now, there's nothing else left but to trust that.

“But what if something goes wrong?” He can't help himself. “I think all three of us should go, just in case. We won't interfere.”

Matsukawa really stuck here. He doesn't want a mess and not telling Hanamaki would probably create a mess he wants to avoid.

“...where's Makki?” He asks.

“He's out for a walk.”

“...” No, he better tell him. He can't not tell him, he just can't. “Fine. I'll tell him. But tomorrow. Then we'll know where we're at.”

“Okay.”

“You know what's weird about this?” He then says, sprawling himself over the sofa. “I still think he's fine.”

“A gut feeling?”

“Yeah. I'll bet you 50 that Kageyama will show up and say they had him draw something.”

Sugawara smiles.

 

“ _You're on.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Iwaizumi, mind the glass, that shit hella shame to break.


	24. Not quite as planed

A lot can happen in a moment. Just ask Kuroo and Bokuto. Even more can happen in a span of a few days, especially if you're associated with the darker side of things.

While coming up with a ransom note and making sure it gets to the ones it needs to, Akaashi also had an ear for gossip and rumours circulating around. That Saturday morning, when he sent Bokuto off to deal with Kuroo and _finally do something about that seven year crush,_ he went to meet a curator from a gallery they have worked with before. And quite successfully at that.

 

“Mr. Akaashi, good morning.” He says as he gets up to shake hands with him. “What an honour to meet you again.”

“Likewise.” Akaashi says as they shake hands briefly before sitting down. “What can I do for you?”

“As you know, next Wednesday there will be a great revealing of one of Rubens' works after nearly six months of restoration. Now, what I've heard from my sources, the one financing the repairs is also someone we've been after for a rather unknown work. It was stolen some years back from the museum in Boston where my boss had it restored, thinking it would be safer there. It's more of a family heirloom than a work for the public, but seeing as Vermeer painted it for his family, you get the picture.”

Akaashi nods. One doesn't encounter many people who have one of the most famous names painting things for their families. Personally, he wouldn't mind having one or two such family portraits. But, alas, that not how the world spins.

“I have a copy here with me, made by one of our own but unfortunately we don't trust anyone else enough to ask for the favour of switching it for us.”

“You're positive that he'll bring it here?”

“More than that. One of our own managed to convince the current owner of it to show it to a certain gentleman who would pay handsomely just to see it once in his life.” The man smiles. “And since it's the man his grandfather went to war with, I was told he'd most definitely bring it.”

“How could anyone refuse the elderly?”

“My point exactly.”

“Wednesday, you say?” Akaashi leans back in his chair, thinking. “I can assemble the crew, no problems, but what exactly are we dealing with there? I don't imagine he'll let the guy alone with the painting even for a second.”

“No, you're right about that. That's why we need your skills of vanishing without a trace. We found a loophole in their transportation methods. Unfortunately, there might be arsenal involved. His guards like to carry a gun or two, just in case. Not that it would matter where you'd be operating. I just figured a heads up might be in order.”

“No worries, I think they'll look forward to something more challenging. It's been a bore lately.” Not counting the kidnapping incident. He's still amazed nothing went wrong with that one.

“By the way, have you heard of that... _pipe incident?_ ” The man asks.

_Ah, cometh the hour of fate striking. There is no concealing amongst this circle._

“I did.” He replies coolly. Which isn't even a lie. He wasn't there when Kuroo and Bokuto had their moment.

“I hear it was a rather troublesome group. Rumour has it there is something bigger planned for a later period. Apparently a person or two are after one of Cézzane's works.”

“What? You think they have been kidnapped to do some dirty work?” Akaashi asks, raising a brow.

“Why not? If it's true and it _is_ one of Oikawa's employees, it wouldn't be the first time something like that happened. Oikawa keeps his restaurateurs hidden from view and seeing what they do with the work sent in, I wouldn't mind if they paid us a visit, too. Seen the _La Classe de Danse_ by Degas that came back from restoration a month ago?”

Now this actually takes Akaashi by surprise.

“I've seen it. But didn't that stay in Paris for repairs? Something about not wanting to risk because they had that transportation strike going on?”

“I thought so too, but no. The one in charge there was on holiday in my town and in between us, they had too much work to do and little time to get the repairs done before it was scheduled to go back on display so one of Oikawa's got it. I must say, they really did an outstanding job, whoever they are.”

“Who knows, maybe you get the chance.”

“I wouldn't count on it.”

“Why not?”

“I don't think Oikawa's over that last auction.”

“Seriously? _You_ nicked that one right in front of his nose?”

“Yes. But only because the boss's sister wanted it. He chipped off a bigger chunk of his own finances than he intended, but I guess it was worth it. Not sure how understanding Oikawa would be if we came out with a restaurateur swap suggestion.”

“Probably not that understanding.” Akaashi ads two cents of his own. He's met the guy and that grumpy assistant of his once. Not one to take an insult lightly. Especially when it comes to artwork he's fond of.

“Maybe when the young miss grows tired of it. I'll be happy to give it away if that means he'll lend a helping hand.”

“Try not to seem too desperate. He can probably smell blood.”

“I have no doubts about it.”

 

The curator's phone buzzed and he apologised before checking it. Akaashi took the moment to sort some things out.

“This is certainly a surprise...” The man mutters, typing a reply.

“What is it?”

“It seems Oikawa is on his way here. He's going to the revealing of Rubens. Maybe the rumours of it being one of his aren't that accurate...or is it that he doesn't care that much after all?”

Akaashi can't agree. Oikawa never let go of anything from his experience and so far, Bokuto and Kuroo have taken two things from him – the miniature, probably long with the one commissioning Kuroo and Kageyama, who's still with them. Oikawa, on the other hand, had yet to make a move. His sudden appearance here might be it. Damn it.

 

_My apologies, Tsukishima, but I'm afraid you two are going to have to wait a little while more_ , he thinks as they finish their drinks and go their separate ways.

 

They already had plans to bring Kageyama back but as things stand, they'll have to speed things up. Kageyama's employer can be a really unpleasant experience when unnerved. Akaashi's more surprised it took him this long to react.

And they also have a job to do.

Maybe they can pull off both.

Either way, it's time to get that incident resolved. None of their identities are in danger, yet, but there is no telling what Kageyama's side of the art family might be capable off. Except for Kuroo's assignment, not once did anyone go after Oikawa's collections. Seems like some people are better left alone.

_Those two really did it this time._

Akaashi's main problem is that he doesn't know all that much about them other than the bits and pieces he picked up so far. Maybe he should follow Bokuto's advice and just ask him.

_And so cometh the hour of the day Akaashi actually considered taking Bokuto's advice. What a time to be alive._

 

* * *

 

Tsukishima finds himself sitting on the beach, actually sulking, as he tosses a few stones into the salty water. Unlike _someone else_ , ( _Bokuto and Kuroo both sneeze, deciding to turn off the AC for a bit_ ) he gets the heaviness of the situation they're currently in. It's just that he doesn't want t bring himself to care about it.

_Why?_

Because he's rather fine with it. Who else gets to spend time with someone they have a thing for like this and who ended up being kidnapped by someone else he knows? That's right. No one. ( _Bokuto and Kuroo decide to brew some tea, this sneezing is getting serious._ ) And by all accounts, the kidnapped one seems also fine with this situation. Also a thing that doesn't come by often. Not that they're in the kidnap business in the first place but he's pretty damn sure this situations is either non-existent or damn close to being such.

So this Oikawa person is on his way here. Okay. _Took him long enough_ , but okay. Not that he knows where they are. Going by Kageyama's face when he mentioned him, Tsukishima is safe to assume he's better off staying here anyway.

Someone from Akaashi's circle of acquaintances came with a job. Which is _also not_ on Tsukishima's list of things to give two shits about, _he's on vacation_.

They should bring back Kageyama before something actually happens that might bite them in the ass. _Well they shouldn't have let him get kidnapped, then._

That's all nice and all but seeing that the whole ordeal should happen sometime _next week,_ there's no need, _whatsoever_ , for Akaashi coming all they way back here _at the start of the weekend_. If anything, Akaashi is once again being a smooth little shit.

 

 _Yes_ , he's fully aware that he's being a damn spoiled brat about it and better to have things sorted out beforehand and Akaashi _did_ say he's off after they get it sorted out _but that's not the point._

Another pebble finds its way to join the others as he lets out steam. By all accounts, this sulking is ridiculous, but Akaashi _didn't have to barge in like that and ruin his moment._

_Is this some romance comedy show?_

_Granted,_ he should have told Akaashi why they're out of the house for the weekend, but he's had enough of the Akaashi-Bokuto-Kuroo drama trio and every possible combination in between. God knows Tsukishima doesn't want to be responsible for a cold war between Akaashi and Bokuto over him of all people. Not again. That business with Kuroo is solely his fault in the second half for being a stubborn idiot.

_At least that episode is over now._

And another pebble sinks below the surface.

He lets out a heavy sigh, lying down on the towel he brought with his eyes closed.

Serves him right, actually, for being a nervous prepubescent kind with a crush instead of a grown ass man who should just up and say what he wants.  _His vocabulary is not exactly a limit_ . 

_His emotional span equalling the length of a tea spoon probably is._

 

He opens his eyes when he hears someone approach – sure enough, it's Kageyama, looking as if he's not sure whether to approach or just leave. The realisation hits Tsukishima like a ton of bricks.

They're both too closed up and in denial to get anywhere with this. Keeping quiet is going to ruin this thing before either one of them has a chance to fuck it up for real.

 

_Let him come to you,_ Akaashi told him once while he pretended not to listen,  _trust me on that._

 

_Well, he's here. Tsukishima's move._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, you lovely readers and commentators, here's a double update for your reading pleasure. Next time, we peek a bit in Kageyama's head. (Also, past lover revealed, sorry for the long wait.)


	25. Past experiences and new views

Tsukishima had left them to discuss the plan for bringing him back to Rome in peace, preferably without any more incidents, but knowing his luck, no one can be too sure of anything.

 

_Kageyama really hadn't expected Oikawa to fly all the way to Rome, Rubens or no Rubens. That notions sits awkwardly in his chest. He worked for him for five years and knew him as long; a sort of admiration and respect formed towards him as a mentor and employer. To call him more than that, Kageyama always had a feeling that would be pushing it._

_Oikawa already had friends and good friends and Iwaizumi, who's everything to him. Kageyama, on the other hand, felt more comfortable being in the studio, surrounded by potentially harmful chemicals, working with his headphones on, a gift from Iwaizumi when he noticed he always had the radio on low so not to disturb anyone around. Hanamaki and Matsukawa were closer to him, seeing that he spent almost all his working hours with them and Hanamaki always used all and every excuse to hang around instead of sitting in front of a monitor. Sugawara reminded him of a mother hen. Not as an insult, but he's someone who's secluded in his own way, with his air of comforting confidence and frankly, he's more likely to talk to Sugawara about things like morals and getting advice but he can't really see himself talking casually to him about more...vulgar themes._

_That's basically how he saw them – people to look up to and respect._

_Hanamaki often teased him that he was_ too proper _, but as a son of diplomats, Kageyama couldn't bring himself to betray their trust or damage their good name. It induced nightmares at times. The day they got him his own place so he could at least attend school properly now that he was older, came as a relief. He loved his parents, but their job started becoming a heavy burden he felt gradually becoming too heavy to bear himself._

_That freedom of sorts opened up a whole new world to him, one he found he was actually very reluctant to explore. He spent a good deal of his life in a glass cage of proper behaviour and mindfulness of others so encountering more casual behaviour and speech tended to overwhelm him. He and his peers both had trouble getting through to each other. He had been seen as someone distant. Funny, because it was always Kageyama who saw them further away than they ever saw him. Talking was difficult, his mindset was different and things didn't go as they should have._

_His teachers loved him for that... properness, but teachers weren't hanging out on the corridors and talking about casual things, normal things teenagers talked about. He joined the volleyball team in hopes to learn some teenage behaviour. After a while, he stopped looking confused and out of a long forgotten century, loosening up a bit and adapting. It went well, actually. His teammates warmed up to him and he to them and amongst them, there was one who made the first step to clear a path to a thing called friendship. Or the sorts._

_The team gets to know him and he gets to know them and they lessen the teasing now that they know what the deal is. For the first time in his life, he feels liberated from that glass cage._

_People stop seeing the cold and distant royalty figure and see the awkward dork who can't form a sentence sometimes because he's too nervous. They see a sharp mind when it counts and obliviousness when it doesn't. He's an interesting one. A role model who rises people's credibility when someone pulls a prank and Kageyama has no qualms stepping in. A great mind when on the volleyball court and even if his views tend to fall back to the stuck up proper diplomat kid, people try to understand. And that's when he steps in._

 

_Kindaichi Yūtarō._

 

_A somewhat popular high school-er, experimenting with hairstyles on the persuasions of his friends and sometimes simply because he's lost a bet, somewhat awkward in his own way, easily flustered by his seniors and most importantly, the one who actually stepped out and tired to explain to Kageyama why his attitude sometimes just didn't work._

_Kindaichi was in for a surprise ever since that one talk. And he quickly found out what Kageyama's "problem" was – he was simply too frank and honest at times. He had a tendency to overwhelm people with his ideas and while he meant well, that attitude didn't always hit the mark. It hit people's weak spots more often than not and despite his efforts, even Kindaichi couldn't keep track of his thoughts all the time. Miscommunications are what made them work, in a way._

_Over the span of three years, that unspoken agreement on translation service, as another teammate named Kunimi called it, worked. Hell, Kageyama even made some acquaintances outside the small circle of the team. There was a loud orange haired kid his age, a few months older, who pestered him to toss to him on every joint practice they had. He had a great technique and it was no surprise that he was next in line to become an ace. Kageyama's and his team had a sort of friendly rivalry going on and that served the purpose of making both grow in all the good ways._

_But somewhere half way into their third year, Kageyama started noticing things. As luck would have it, while dealing with serious stuff and stuck up adults in suits speaking a few languages, mingling and mashing together in a colourful murmur in expensive and decorated offices and buildings deep rooted in history came easy to him, normal teenage stuff like pulling harmless pranks, engaging in harmless bets, trash talking, casual language, slang, pop culture reference, that meme thing no one could agree on how to pronounce it...crushes and the beginning of innocent romance were...indefinitely more difficult._

_He was an only child, moving to places and from them, with little or no people he could say he was comfortable to be around with. Or talk to them about...stuff._

_So it came as no surprise at all that the ones closest to him would notice those kinds of things quicker than he will, if he ever notices them at all._

_Truthfully, romance and crushes were in general things that seemed like from another world, something that happened to people around him, but not him. Never him. Because he doesn't think about it. He doesn't miss the point of a class because he's daydreaming about someone's eyes, smile, hair, the way the talk, walk, exist. If he misses a point of the class, it's because he's thinking of new volleyball strategies. It's something he's good at. Or maybe trying to get an acceptable grade in Math so not to disappoint his parents. Thinking about what to do after school. He was so sure he'd end up travelling the world on his own someday, engaging in the world of diplomacy like his parents. So, so sure._

_Yet, no one's path is carved in stone, no matter how much it looks like it is. And Kageyama is one of those people._

_Maybe if he had continued to follow his parents, things would have ended up as they were supposed to. He'll never know._

_He thinks he probably condemned himself with that decision to stay put and try out a world he's just not accustomed to. Three years compared to a lifetime are not enough to fill in the gaps, wide and deep. It's like the difference between trying to recall something once heard in passing and knowing it right off the bat. The difference between gaining confidence and having it._

_He didn't see it until it hit him in the face. He didn't realise it until he was told._

“ _Kageyama, I know you have trouble with this stuff but no one is that oblivious.” Kindaichi laughed and it sounded nervous and strained. It was. Kunimi made himself scarce some minutes before and they were in the more secluded part of the school yard before the start of Golden Week._

_Heavens as his witness, he had absolutely no idea what he was on about and where it came from. Like a thunderbolt from clear skies. Without a warning. After almost half a year of sudden shut out and significantly less contact other then the obligatory courtesy. He's seen that countless times before, in fancy halls and refined courtyards. What eluded him was the reason. Neither Kindaichi nor Kunimi had problems pointing out what's wrong, but neither said a word about this.  
_

_Apparently Kindaichi gets his turmoil after a long moment of silence and that honestly confused look on Kageyama's face that one can't fake. Kageyama was never the lying type to begin with._

“ _Oh, shit. You really have no clue what I'm talking about, do you?” The tension somewhat lessens as a form of...relief? washes,_ _very visibly,_ _over Kindaichi ._

“ _Kageyama, do you_ like _like me?” He then tries to explain and Kageyama's never been so happy. “As in have a crush on me?”_

_And that's another thing he didn't know. Not all falling in love is big declarations and revelations, waking up and knowing the answer, suddenly stopping in tracks while the sun sets all mushy brained and maybe a little bit happy. (Where he gets that from is a mystery.)_

 

_Sometimes it's slipping silently without even noticing it and by the time one does notice anything, they realise they're deeper down than they think they are._

 

_They end up parting their ways, back to square one, and Kageyama learns that different types of love and admiration exist but not all are convenient at all times. Or accepted, for that matter._

_The glass door once again shuts behind him, guided by his own hand this time and he returns to the world he's more comfortable with._

_This time around, what was once a cage becomes a little safe bubble._

_Then, another glass door opens as his feet bring him to a place that would turn his world upside down again, in the most unimaginable of ways._

_He made some changes since that encounter with his future colleagues and boss. He gave up on the seemingly set path of high diplomacy, surprising himself the most of how easily and effortlessly that change went. His parents were not against his choice, they always thought he had a little something that is there but needs expression._

_The University set high standards and Kageyama met them all. Help came from all sort of places – mostly Oikawa and his bunch – and he ended up still travelling all over the globe, but this time without restrictions and his awkwardness was easily accepted in these circles. Apparently all artist have some sort of quirk and he fits in like he's born for it._

_If he's not in class, he's devoting himself whole into getting down all the things he doesn't know. No one thinks it weird, this time, but he remains at a distance. No one minds that either and he's happy about that fact._

_There are no questions, no awkward looks, no hushed whispers when he passes by or asks a question in that way of his. The one he came to know as Hanamaki dies laughing every time, more than happy to answer all of them. Matsukawa takes a minute to comprehend in silence and then explains in his own way, but they also work. Sugawara is almost always there, letting him take the first step and open up, little by little._

_He doesn't see much of Oikawa and Iwaizumi unless they make a stop by the Uni and later by the working place._

_They're both accepting, each in their own way, although Oikawa tends to be the aggressive positive one and more often than not, it's Iwaizumi who smooths out the situation. Kageyama ends up being a bit closer to Iwaizumi's way of thinking than Oikawa's and that leads to some drama but no one pushes._

_Trying hard is good, working on oneself is a must, but Kageyama also learns that nothing goes by force or in a rush. He takes his time to let things sink in, especially with the communication thing between all of them. It takes a while to get used to all of that again and little by little, there's a feeling of belonging slowly blooming in his chest._

_But there are some things buried deep down and he's not ready to face them yet. It becomes a hindrance when trying to bond on a deeper level. And yet again, no one pushes him and he doesn't think about it. Things continue running smoothly as they always have._

_Hanamaki takes every chance to be close to Matsukawa, even when the latter's practically submerged into his work, trying to concentrate. Sugawara sighs at that but there's always a small smile on his lips as he does that. As of late, he seems not to notice it all that much because there's something new going on, Kageyama can tell. It's in the way his look softens when he reaches for his phone to read a message. It's in the way he stopped looking at Matsukawa and Hanamaki with a hint of loneliness behind his warm brown eyes._

_And that's him, ladies and gentlemen. That is who Kageyama Tobio is._

_He notices everything around him but forgets to observe himself. The one thing he can be sure of is that he feels a bit detached from the world. It's not a bad feeling. As long as everything else remains underneath the surface that is his mind, he'll be fine._

_Then the Universe seems be bored or something, maybe even Fate woke up from his constant poking with his brush at her image as he works on a painting because Hanamaki appears on the door of the studio, whisking him away from it and later begins discussing their vacation and his world turns again._

_This time because of his own decision to see a statue._

_A simple decision that sets the gears of new possibilities in motion._

_He meets Akaashi and Tsukishima, purely by coincidence. A rather brief encounter, nothing much to tell. And yet, in that brief encounter, a lot of things happen. A coffee, a gifted sketch, a friendly chat. It's only later that he notices that there's no stutter, no uncertainty when he talks and the words just flow. Familiar words and Akaashi seems genuinely interested in what he has to say. Tsukishima looks a bit confused but hides it well. After a while, they part ways and by all accounts, that should have been the end of that._

_It should have been, but it isn't._

_Kageyama then agrees to visit a concert, something he just doesn't do if it's not of the classical kind, and there he meets Tsukishima again._

_Again, a conversation builds so easily, even if he barely said anything in the Basilica, merely listening to him and Akaashi talk and exchange ideas. Truthfully, between the two of them, Akaashi got to him more, but he should know better than to judge a book by its cover._

_And then Tsukishima goes and tells him he's too much of a goodie two shoes. It surprises Kageyama. It really does. He's not labelled as distant, cold nor stuck up, he's labelled a goodie two shoes. By the end of that encounter, he felt like he'd been pushed over the edge and landed straight into that deep mess in his head, breaking the surface and discovering a whole new world once more.  
_

_A mess that looks nothing like a mess._

_Not any more._

_Funny how a changed perspective can alter so much. His work is almost all about perspective among other things, yet it never ceases to amaze him._

_Little by little, he opens up._

_First was Hanamaki with that small conversation about Tsukishima._

_Then Tsukishima asks a few things and somehow he ends up telling him the high school story, completely at ease with it. Tsukishima, for unknown reasons, wasn't that calm hearing what happened._

_Kageyama ended up not regretting sharing that part with someone._

_But he got thinking and decided that maybe he should talk to someone else about it, too. Who better than the one who called him too proper the first time around?_

_Then he got Oikawa's phone call and the rest, as they say, is history._

 

He says goodbye to Akaashi as the latter leaves, done with discussing the details. A few more days and he'll be back with the people who care more about him than he thought. Not that he was ungrateful, it's just that they seemed to treasure him more than he let himself believe.

Immense relief washed over him when that last piece of the puzzle fell into place. He belonged somewhere. Did so for quite some time.

Though, now, he knew he wanted someone else to accept him as well. Whether that will be so is something he has to find out himself.

He opens the slide door and walks the way leading down to the beach. Time to find out where this goes.

Tsukishima's on his towel, his eyes are closed and again Kageyama wishes he brought his sketch book or had his phone. For the camera. He still sucks at taking pictures and wonders if Tsukishima would someday teach him. The other notices his presence as he stands a few steps away, contemplating on how to ask him about that. Photography still sounded like a touchy subject and he wasn't exactly eager to push it.

“Care to join me?” He hears him ask. He lifts his head to meet his eyes, gold emphasised by the suns rays, warm and so so captivating, it's hard to concentrate. He does snap out of it, in time to take the hand Tsukishima holds out for him to take it.

 

_He does._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This actually wrote itself. I'm amazed.


	26. When we up in the club, all eyes on Oikawa Tooru

Oikawa Tooru arriving somewhere out of schedule almost never happened. And when it did, it certainly drew in attention. A lot of attention. In fact, so much attention, Iwaizumi was tempted to kick him through the small aeroplane window right into the hoard of press people gathering around, waiting for Oikawa Tooru to show his face.

“...exactly what part of _keep a low profile_ did you not understand, Oikawa?” Iwaizumi nearly growls at the pea sized Oikawa sitting next to him.

“...uh...the one where they take forever to find him?” Oikawa squeaked like a rubber ducky.

“This press conference waiting for you outside is certainly gonna help.”

“Relax, as far as they know, I'm here for the unveiling of Rubens.” Oikawa returns to full size, all proud of himself for that ingenious plan.

There's a shit ton of things piling up in Iwaizumi's head, way too many questions and what if's swirling around, but...

“I hope you know what you're doing.” Is all what he says, getting up from his seat, brushing his slacks.

There's a million plus something things that could go horribly wrong. Iwaizumi thinks he'll somehow avoid all of them if he simply refuses to think about any of them. Worth a try at least. Not that they have anything to lose. Except maybe Kageyama. No biggie.

_Oh, Gods of the old and new religions of all continents, please help._

The moment his feet touched the ground, he leaves Oikawa to deal with the reporters while he phones Matsukawa.

“Talk to me.” Iwaizumi pinches the bridge of his nose as he leans against a wall, keeping an eye on Oikawa as he deals with the onslaught of cameras and microphones in his face.

“ _Oikawa's going to that unveiling. I don't care how you do it, just make sure he's there the whole time. Hanamaki, Sugawara and I will take care of the rest._ ”

“Is that it?”

“ _I don't know. We just have to go with this one. I really can't bring myself to doubt it, but no one is ever sure with these things._ ”

 _Especially not with Oikawa and Kageyama are in the same thing_ , lies heavy between them, unspoken.

“Fine. I'll make sure Oikawa stays put. If anything out of the ordinary happens, call me immediately.”

“ _Of course._ ”

“Good luck, Matsukawa.”

“ _Thank you. I'll keep in touch._ ”

_...this better work._

“Iwa-chan, I'm done.” Oikawa smiles as he hurries to where Iwaizumi is, pulling his away from the wall and down the corridors. “Let's get going, shall we?”

“What time is that unveiling anyway?”

“Somewhere around nine.”

“...you do realise you have about twenty minutes to get there before they realise something else is up?”

“Nonsense, Iwa-chan, why would they think that?” Oikawa waves it off but still picks up the pace into a light sprint.

“You never arrive anywhere last notice and you're never late.” Iwaizumi's states flat.

_Shit. Being punctual is actually a curse._

“No worries, Iwa-chan, the car is waiting and I'll take care of all the tickets.”

“Why did I ever listen to you?”

“Iwa-chan!”

“Shut it and hurry!”

True to Oikawa's words, there's a car waiting in front of the airport with Iwaizumi recognising it. It belongs to the owner of the place where the Rubens is to be presented after so long and it seems Oikawa really did do his homework this time around.

“What? You really doubted me, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa flashes a smile as they all but dive into the limousine before closing the doors and the chauffeur stepped on it.

“When exactly do your plans work?” Iwaizumi shoots him a look as he starts undressing from his casual suit to change into a more appropriate one for the evening, with Oikawa following suit.

“Iwa-chan, now you're just being mean again.”

“You do remember that Kageyama ended up with 27 stitches once because of your plans?”

“HOW THE HECK WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW IT WOULD FALL ON HIM!”

“ _Why the hell would you even send him there in the first place?!_ ”

“I-” fuck knows, really. It's been a while but he's sure he had a good idea at the time. Too bad Iwaizumi can read him like a book and doesn't like the unspoken answer.

“ _Ouch, ouch, Iwa-chan, I'm gonna go bald!_ ”

“ _No, you're not!_ ”

There's a bunch of people gathering in front of the gallery, up and down the wide staircase on the red carpet, mingling between themselves and the reporters (a much more polite version of them) that have come to record the happening. Iwaizumi quickly adjusts the tie on both him and Oikawa before they step out the car, Oikawa already in his element, looking like this is exactly where he wants to be and at this precise time, too.

Iwaizumi just looks a tad grumpy, as always, or rather, on the more serious side, but he can't exactly ignore the knot forming in his stomach.

The drop off is tonight, in about an hour or so, and he has to keep Oikawa out of trouble by then. Thankfully they are quite remote from the drop off point so keeping Oikawa put won't be that problematic. He'll probably immerse himself in this and slip it off his mind for a while.

“Ushiwaka-chan!” Oikawa smiles sweetly as he spots someone rather familiar near the top of the stairs. “I'm glad you made it!”

“Oikawa-san.” The taller man nods politely in his direction as he turns around. Why he still put up with this stupid nickname was above Iwaizumi, but then again so did he and there wasn't any place for judgement here, really.

“I take it you had a pleasant flight?” Ushiwaka – Ushijima Wakatoshi – one of the top collectors besides Oikawa, asks, dismissing his own assistant for a while.

“As pleasant as a last minute arrangement can be.”

Iwaizumi is baffled by the conversation. Did Oikawa seriously ask Ushijima for –  _help_ ?  _Sweet Leonardo da Vinci, how much did he tell him?_

“So you're not mad about that painting any more, I take it?” The taller one asks flatly and Iwaizumi can see a vein popping on Oikawa's forehead.

“Well you also didn't get it so I'll let it slide that you dared to try to outbid me on that Carravagio.” He says politely as a hissing snake.

“You should have joined us on that one. That worthless pride will get you nowhere, you know?” Ushijima, God help this oblivious good natured airhead, calmly states, unaware that's he's risking a damn fight in the middle of a gala evening. 

“ _Well you better remember this worthless pride of mine, then._ ”

There's a brief moment of a stare down between the two before Ushijima sighs.

“You really didn't want that one, did you?” Ushijima asks, looking really tired.

“Yes I did.”

“No, you didn't.” Ushijima says, checking the time on his wristwatch. “You just wanted it because you saw me bidding for it.”

“...not true.”

Both Ushijima and Iwaizumi gave him a look.

“...suit yourself. By the way, I hear _he's_ going to be here tonight.”

“ _He_ is?” Oikawa blinks, frowning.

 

_He's here and Kageyama is missing? There's no way it's a coincidence._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I had to expand this universe a bit for later chapters to make sense. Or not. (Also new series in writing.)


	27. According to plan (not again)

“I see you're finally getting along.” A familiar voice reaches both Ushijima's and Oikawa's ears. They both turn to see Yahaba Shigeru smiling brightly at them, smartly dressed for the occasion and Oikawa could swear he tried to rip off his hairstyle but knew better than to start such a petty fight right now.

It could be a coincidence that this guy shows up right when the situation is a bit... _tense_ but Oikawa can't be sure. That guy is known to have his web cast wide.

But he has no proof and Iwaizumi would not hesitate to murder him on the spot if he endangered himself with possibly false accusations.

“ _As if._ ” Both Ushijima and Oikawa say, casting a glance to each other when it comes out in sync. As much as Ushijima _would_ like to get along, Oikawa was way too stubborn for his own good at times. Honestly, it shocked his socks off when he got a phone call the other day from that guy, asking if a extra seat could be arranged for him. That sort of thing never happened. Like, ever.

Whatever the reason for Oikawa's sudden interest, Ushijima is not exactly informed about it and frankly, doesn't really care but hopes he can use this opportunity and smooth out things between them. And with Yahaba here, he just might succeed.

_There is also one thing he needs to know._

As long as he can remember, he's always seen Oikawa as the one who's under constant pressure from the family. His older brother decided to ditch the family tradition, marry, have a kid and all that as far away from them as possible. Seeing how  _Oikawa the younger_ , as people liked to refer to him, was the only son left, he'd been pushed to fill in the void.

His brother was taught the family business from a much younger age than Tooru was and dragging a kid with completely different affinities through the rather rigorous training and schooling could have ended in a catastrophe, but somehow, it didn't. Oikawa Tooru filled in some large shoes, even taking it a step further, easily stretching his shadow over the family instead of the other way around. 

A talent that bloomed in the midst of an eclipse – there was no other way of putting it.

But Ushijima could see it in his eyes – he hated it. He despised it from the depths of his soul. He could see how his hands shook as if he wanted to rip someone's head off from the amount of pure rage locked up inside whenever they crossed paths. They crowned him the Grand King of their world, distant and demanding, heavy to handle and impossible to reason with.

Ushijima never met anyone even remotely like Oikawa. So talented and so full of spite.

 

“ _What?” He asked, that spiteful smirk across his face, looking as if he might break down and cry any second now. “Are you that worried about me?”_

“ _Of course I am. You're breaking yourself. You need to stop.” Ushijima said, in that cool and secure voice, pissing Oikawa even more off._

“ _Why don't you mind your own business, Ushiwaka-chan? Being so considerate of me is unbecoming.”_

 

Then a longer period of absence on Oikawa's part came and he thought that maybe he finally snapped. He carried too much weight on his shoulders to last. And just as he comes to terms that he burned out like a falling star, he comes back.

He comes back and he's a whole different person.

As if someone lifted the whole world from his shoulders and it's visible. Granted, he's still unnecessarily aggressive in some things and stubborn to boot, but there is no sense of him falling apart at one wrong step. It's gone. Vanished. Evaporated. It's a wonder, really. As if someone scraped off the different shades of grey and black from him, leaving nothing but the real him behind, dust free, so to speak.

Ushijima had no way to put it exactly. It's more a feel thing.

Though, they never got the chance to speak until today. It's been a very long time since they just exchanged a few words that go beyond the usual pleasantries.  _Or smart remarks and bites._

He can't hold anything against him and he doesn't – Ushijima Wakatoshi was brought up in a completely different manner – but he'd like to know if he was truly as fine as he looked. Also, an apology was in order for his behaviour back then. Maybe he shouldn't have been him and kissed him out of the blue. That's just...

 

“Oikawa. Might I have a word in private?” He asks quietly as the doors open and people start filling in, excitement audible in the murmur of the crowd.

“Oikawa-” That assistant of his begins but is cut off with Oikawa raising a hand.

“Go ahead, Iwa-chan. I'll catch up to you.”

“...alright.” He says and goes inside, walking up to the display room with Ushijima's own assistant.

They took a turn into a more secluded area, not too far from the area where they should be a bit later on, behind a red curtain that covers the way to another part of the gallery, currently being re-arranged for another display.

“ _Ushiwaka, I swear to God if you try to kiss me again, I'll scream this time._ ” Oikawa points a finger in warning before leaning against the wall. “So what is it?”

Ushijima's actually speechless for a moment there before recollecting himself.

“Uh, yes, about that. I'm sorry. It was wrong of me to do that. I didn't mean to disrespect you.” He says, looking as remorseful as his own personality would allow. “I never got to apologise, so...”

Now it's Oikawa's turn to look surprised.

“I see you're doing well.” Ushijima says next, completely disregarding the previous topic. He's good at dodging bullets and letting things go like that.

“I am well.” Oikawa says, deciding to play along. _For once_. “Well, much better than back then.”

“You certainly crashed this party so I believe you.”

Oikawa actually laughs at this.

“Yes, I thought I'd try it once.”

“So what's going on?” Ushijima leans against his part of the wall. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“I'm always in some kind of trouble, Ushiwaka, you should know that by now. This one might just turn out good.”

“I see. Anything I can do?”

“You're already doing it.”

“Does it have anything to do with Yahaba showing up?”

“I have no idea. Maybe it does. Maybe it doesn't. I can't tell. It's a mess. As much as I would like to drag that little shit out and make him spill his beans, I can't.”

“Must be tough on you. I heard he agreed to show a painting of his.”

“No way.” Oikawa blinks.

“Yes.”

“ _To whom?_ ” He arches a brow.

“Someone his grandfather used to know is the story.”

“Wow, so he _does_ have a heart.”

“Miracles do happen here.”

“I agree.”

“ _I hope it gets nicked._ ”

“Oikawa.”

“What? Better than destroyed.”

“...with that I can't argue.”

“We should probably get back.” Oikawa says, looking at his phone. “People might start gossiping.”

“Why do they do that, anyway?” Ushijima can't help but wonder.

“Human nature, I guess.”

“By the way, are you going to the auction in London?” Oikawa asks.

“Maybe I'll visit. I have nothing in plan for the next two months other than a few exhibits. Which reminds me, how are your restaurateurs?”

“...fine.” _He hopes._

“Would it be possible to send a few pieces over to them in September?”

“I don't know. I'll have to ask them. I have no idea what their schedules even look like, they handle everything by themselves.” He muses as they walk towards the doors while it's still polite. “I'll let you know. By when do you need the answer?”

“Even if you decide by the end of August, it's not too late.”

“Alright.”

They parted their ways just before the door, entering at their own pace. Oikawa quickly found Iwaizumi, sitting in the second row, right next to the passage.

“You okay?” Iwaizumi asks, making room for Oikawa to pass.

“Yeah. I'll have to ask the guys how their schedules look like in September. Ushiwaka needs some work done. Smart thing to do, asking for the best.”

“...so it's temporary truce until Yahaba gets out of the picture?”

“Exactly.” Oikawa smiles and makes himself comfortable in the chair.

The curator and professor of history gave each a little speech before everyone braced themselves to lay their eyes on that precious painting.

 

They unveiled the spot on the wall to reveal-

 

_-a blank space on the wall._

 

_The surprise on everyone's face was beyond apprehension._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Yahaba strikes me as one of those Disney Kid Villains (TM) and there we have it.


	28. Another kind of mess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still in the moving process, but here's a little something for you. Enjoy!

“What the-” Iwaizumi slips as Oikawa's eyes go wide in shock and the room is flooded with confused and excited murmur.

How did-when did-

Ushijima's pale as a ghost and even Yahaba is speechless.

“Security!” Someone calls, rushing out.

 

Before anyone knows it, they're all gathered back in the hallway, waiting for the police as they security guards check the premises.

Though, Oikawa Tooru has no intention to stand still. He's not here for the painting, any ways.

“Ushijima.” He taps the taller man's shoulder, looking discreetly around, before turning his attention back to him.

“Is there a way out of here undetected?” He asks, voice low.

“Uh, yes.” Ushijima says, blinking at him. “Why?”

“I'll explain later, come on.”

“This way then.”

Oikawa and Ushijima slip past the crowd unnoticed, making their way to Ushijima's office on the second floor.

“Oikawa, are you sure about this?” Ushijima asks as they walk past the office to the emergency exit, which he unlocks with his card. “Shouldn't we be downstairs with the others?”

“Yes, but I don't have time to waste there on some missing painting right now.” Oikawa responds coolly, making Ushijima stop dead in his tracks and turn to him, even more shocked than seeing a priceless piece missing from the wall down back stairs.

“...come again?” He manages.

“Look, the ones behinds this theft may be the same ones I'm looking for.” Oikawa tugs at Ushijima's coat to make him move again as they continue down the emergency exit.

“...you had a theft in your own gallery?”

“No, someone kidnapped one of my own and that may have been a diversion for this. I don't know. But they won't get away with it. Where's the back door of the storage?”

“The side building.”

 

So he was wrong about suspecting Yahaba. No one can fake that degree of shock. But it only means the culprit still unknown and probably laughing somewhere. Damn it, Matsukawa still hasn't called. What's taking so long? Could it be that they were deceived and are waiting who knows where in vain?

 

“So you think the culprits might still be in the storage room?” Ushijima asks as he unlocks the door leading to the outside. They hurry down the narrow path between the buildings and sure enough, there's a dark coloured vehicle without licence plates with dark tinted glass parked right in front of an opened storage building.

_What is this, some comedic movie about art theft? Seriously._

 

“Oikawa.”

“What?”

“There's two of them outside.”

“Good. We can handle two people.”

“Oikawa.”

“ _What now?_ ”

“They're armed.”

“…”

 

_Well shit. He did not think this through._ Where the hell is Iwaizumi when- Oh, right, he left him in the crowd to panic where he's at without telling him a word about this.  _Never mind then._

 

“Do you carry a handgun?” Ushijima asks as they continue staring at the two armed masked people making sure whoever is inside the storage does his job undisturbed.

“Of course not, where do you even get the idea?” Oikawa hisses, shooting him a scandalised look.

“Just asking.” Ushijima says, getting out his phone.

“Who are you calling now?”

“Tendou.” Ushijima states calmly. “He's got one.”

“What is wrong with you?!” Oikawa nearly screeches. “Do you know how many priceless things you have in there?! And you're about to give people reasons to start shooting?!”

“Calm down, they'll hear you.”

“I am perfectly calm!”

 

“Hey, you two!” One of the masked people shouts, holding out a pistol of sorts, Oikawa has no idea. “Hand up and walk over here. Slowly.”

“And you,” the other adds, “drop that phone.”

 

Reluctantly, Ushijima does so, putting his hands up along with Oikawa as both of them walk over to the van, stopping a few steps away from it when one of the gun wielding men motions for them to stop.

 

“No luck, it's not here.” A third voice says and another masked person steps out from the storage, dusting himself off.

“What the hell?” The third one says having seen Oikawa and Ushijima standing with their hands up.

“We found them behind the building.” The masked man number one says.

“Excellent.” Masked guy number three says. “Just who we need. The man of the house himself.” He closes the door to the storage, _how polite of him_ , and slams the doors of the van shut as well.

“We need a little something from you and I believe you have it in your studio. If you don't mind, I'd like to get it before the cops get here. Don't hope they'll arrive anytime soon, though, the traffic tonight is hell.” He adds, motioning for them to start walking again.

“Be quiet and cooperative and we'll be out of your hair before you know it.”

 

_He sure is talkative_ , Oikawa thinks, frowning, as Ushijima nods and leads the way to the gallery's studio.

 

_Crap, he really did it this time._

 

_Iwaizumi's gonna kill him for sure._

 


	29. The reunion (at long last)

“So here's the deal, kid.” Bokuto says as he drives through the small streets where driving is still allowed because some event or the other was nearby.

“We'll leave you as near as possible to the gallery where they're unveiling that Rubens thing, forgive me for not knowing exactly what it is, Akaashi deals with that stuff, and you can call your friends with this phone to pick you up wherever they see convenient.”

“Okay.” Kageyama replies calmly from the back seat.

 

 _Wow, he sure is calm about this whole thing_ , Kuroo notes, glancing at him in the mirror.

 

Which brings him to another question and that is _how the ever living fuck did he end up with Bokuto and apparently Tsukishima's newest crush/boyfriend/something in the same car, driving said Tsukishima's crush/boyfriend/something to some fancy gala evening thing and trusting him not to have them all locked up behind bars for good? Was he missing something?_

He highly doubted Tsukishima himself was actually aware of this little schedule, but he can't really complain. Akaashi and Tsukishima had their own planning due to Akaashi's newest job. He and Bokuto were also involved, but not required to show up right away.

From what he knew, Akaashi ordered Kageyama's friends to a different part of town, they'll all be more or less on the same location, making use of the fancy evening of the unveiling to do their own thing. A great plan, actually.

But unfortunately, there's one thing none of them saw coming.

And that's Oikawa Tooru and Ushijima Wakatoshi being taken hostage, as it would seem from where they're standing.

 

_Well shit._

 

“Oi, Bo...” Kuroo speaks, eyes wide.

“I see it, Kuroo.” Bokuto replies.

Kageyama, on the other hand, looks not surprised at all.

“ _Iwaizumi-senpai is going to kill him..._ ” He mutters, getting the attention of them both. This is going to have to be priority.

“Who are you calling?” Kuroo asks as he starts the phone and dials a number.

“Backup.” He says. “This might be messy.”

“Wh-” Kuroo's eyes go wide in shock as he gets what he's suggesting. “What the-you're not seriously thinking about going in there?!”

“Oi.” He tenses up as Kageyama remains silent.

“He doesn't know how to handle those situations.” Kageyama says, waiting for the phone to pick up.

“ _AND YOU DO?!_ ”

All he gets it a little cutesy shrug as in _well yeah._

 

_What the-_

 

“Kid, no.” Kuroo says, completely done with life. “It's too dangerous.”

 _Tsukishima would have their heads_. And then Akaashi would be pissed. A cold shiver runs through him at that prospect.

Kageyama is about to reply when the phone finally picks up.

“ _Iwaizumi._ ” They hear the person speak.

“Iwaizumi-san? It's Kageyama.” Kageyama says calmly.

“ _Kageyama?! What?! Are you okay?! Where are you?!_ ” Oh, the panic is clear in his voice and Kuroo feels so, so guilty.

“Yes, I'm fine. I'm in the back yard of the gallery you're probably in.”

“ _I-huh?_ ”

“I'll explain later, right now Oikawa-san is in a situation.”

“ _You saw Oikawa?_ ”

“Yeah, he and Ushijima-san were taken to the back building by three armed guys.”

“ _...I'll seriously kill that guy...Wait there, I'll be right down._ ”

“Okay.”

And with that short conversation over, he turns to the two of his unlikely kidnappers.

“Iwaizumi-san's on his way here.” He says.

“Yeah-”

 

The sound of a gun-shot reverberates through the night air, effectively claiming their attention.

“Kageyama, wait!” Bokuto shouts after him, but he's already full sprint towards the building.

“Shit, Kuroo, what do we do?!” Bokuto panics as Kageyama enters the building and vanishes from their sigh.

“We go after him of course!” Kuroo pulls him along as he, too, starts running.

 

_Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit._

_How the hell did the situation get this bad?!_ _And where the hell is Kageyama?!_

 

They hurry up the only staircase in the hall, careful not to be seen, looking all over the place to find the kid. They finally spot him in the half dark end of the long corridor on the second floor, crouching beneath a half wall, probably trying to make out where exactly the guy walking with a gun is.

Bokuto waves at him, claiming his attention and points out where he is, getting a nod from the kid.

“ _What the fuck are you doing?!_ ” Kuroo whispers aggressively, keeping it as low as he can while looking well beyond scandalised.

Another shrug is what he gets as a response and he's about to start yelling for real when Kageyama jumps over the wall and kicks the guy square in the face mid-air while holding onto the bricks. They guy doesn't even make a sound save from the heavy thud of the most likely unconscious body hitting the floor boards.

The kid then takes his gun, disassembles it and throws the pieces through a small window outside before giving them a thumbs up and hurrying through the door he was guarding.

Bokuto and Kuroo took a moment before another sound came somewhere from behind them. They both jumped, hoping against all hopes it wasn't one of the masked dudes.

“What are you two doing in here?” Akaashi's voice asks them, half annoyed, and they both burst into tears.

“Akaashi, we almost died!” Bokuto whines out, hugging the annoyed man.

“ _What?_ ”

“We parked in the back like you said and then some three guys with guns walked in here with Kageyama's boss and some other dude and then there was a gunshot and Kageyama ran after them and we followed Kageyama and then he face kicked one of those dudes and he's lying there unconscious and now you're here and holy shit are you okay? Where's Tsukishima?”

“ _Kageyama went after an armed group?!_ ” Tsukishima asks as he too comes out from the room Akaashi did. “ _And you let him go alone?!_ ”

_That's actually not the problem here_ , Kuroo thinks, feeling weak.

But Bokuto's right, they could have easily been knocked out by the kid back then and-yeah, let's not think about it right now.

 

Or, better yet, never.

Never sounds good.

Let's  _never_ think about it.

 

“Come on.” Akaashi says, freeing himself Bokuto's arms, “We can't let him go alone in there.”

“But Akaashi-”

“Later!” He hisses as they pass right past the guy out cold, briefly all acknowledging that it was a job well done, before entering a damn maze of corridors and small offices – the studio. Akaashi would recognise the smell of paint and turpentine and other chemicals anywhere.

They scatter all around and find the way to the back of the studio where the offices were bigger – where they dealt with pottery and sculptures – and found Kageyama standing next to a closed door, listening intently.

Kageyama spotted them and signalled them that he heard six people inside and to lay low.

Then another person walked over to Kageyama, ruffling his hair as they crouch down before deciding to hell with it and pulled him into a full hug and then brushing his hair out of his eyes for good measure.

“ _That's Oikawa's assistant._ ” Akaashi whispers to Tsukishima, sensing his confusion and shooting both Kuroo and Bokuto a warning look not to laugh.

_Of course he is_ , Tsukishima thinks, fighting the expression of a heavy case of constipation and even Akaashi has to stifle a laugh.

Iwaizumi cast a look their way as Kageyama explains a few things and judging by the expression of gratitude on his face, they're safe to assume the kid didn't sell them out. Now even Kuroo is impressed.  _Though the heavy feeling that he's dealing with a bunch of insane people sets more firmly in. And he's one of them._

Iwaizumi switches to the other side of the door, counting down from three to one, kicking the door on the last digit, with Kageyama following closely behind as they storm in, leaving the rest of them gapping.

_The hell?_

There's shouting, a few shots, a few ceramics breaking (Akaashi can tell just from the sound), one person actually flies out the door towards Akaashi and his crew, earning two solid punches to the face from Kuroo and Bokuto for good measure and all of a sudden there's silence again.

“I hope you'll never think of randomly kidnapping people again.” Is all Akaashi says to that before walking through the door.

Sure enough, there are broken shards everywhere, a flipped table, a few scattered papers and someone managed to chip off a piece of a frame. From the shape, Kuroo would say it was a stray bullet.  _How no one got hurt is a fucking miracle._

“Tobio-chan!” Oikawa bawls as he, too, wraps his arms around Kageyama tightly, sniffling loud and gross and heart-warming and fucking hilarious.

“Let him breathe, you moron!” Iwaizumi barks, looking ready to tear someone's head off. “Do you even realise what you have gotten yourself into, you idiot, you could have been killed!”

“But you barged in-”

“ENOUGH!”

“..yes, Iwa-chan.”

Akaashi picked up a broken piece of what used to be a vase. Ushijima next to him assured him it was a replica when he saw him dejected. (Like hell would they allow the actual thing to be left out in the open.) Then they fell into a discussion over pottery and Kuroo was now absolutely sure they all needed to seek professional help. Bokuto kicked a dude back into unconsciousness when he moved.

Tsukishima waited by the door, but turned around as he heard another racket coming from what was probably down stairs.

 

“ _HOW DARE YOU KIDNAP OUR PRECIOUS KAGEYAMA?!_ ” They all hear someone yell. Oikawa, Iwaizumi and Kageyama recognise him as Hanamaki.

“ _THE HELL IS HE EVEN?!_ ”

“ _DON'T YOU DARE SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT!_ ”

“ _DUDE PUT THAT CHAIR DOWN I SWEAR I HAVE NO IDEA WHOM YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!_ ”

“ _YEAH RIGHT!_ ”

 

Another wave of destructive noises follow before Hanamaki yells again.

 

“ _DID YOU SERIOUSLY POINT A GUN AT HIM?!_ ”

“ _OH SHI-_ ”

 

There's a sound of wood breaking (mostly likely the mentioned chair) and not long after, more pairs of footsteps walk up the stairs.

 

“Hello there.” Hanamaki smiles at Tsukishima, carrying a piece of chair.

“Sorry about this”, he says as Ushijima peeks out from the door, “I'll get you a new one.”

“Don't worry about it.” Ushijima waves it off and Hanamaki just tosses it aside with a shrug.

“If you say so.”

He then sees Kageyama still trapped within Oikawa's arms. He, too, starts crying.

“ _Kiiid._ ” He bawls, looking much better than Oikawa while doing so and lifting both Oikawa and Kageyama up as he embraces them.

Matsukawa and Sugawara arrive just in time to witness that scene, sighing in relief.

“Who got the gun?” Iwaizumi asks, looking at them both. Sugawara points at Matsukawa while Matsukawa raises a hand.

Iwaizumi merely nods, aware the guy is gonna need an ambulance asap. He walks out the room, pulling out his phone and calls the emergency services.

 

“ _Dude, are you sure you wanna date that guy?_ ” Kuroo asks, voice weak, scared shitless because _God help those who end up on the wrong side of Kageyama Tobio._

Tsukishima blinks at him. Then looks over to Kageyama.

“No, I haven't seen any kidnappers.” He says, _flat out bullshitting his boss and mentor_ , as Hanamaki takes off his jacket and wraps it around Kageyama's shoulders. “You might want to look out for a Van Gogh scenery, though.”

Matsukawa merely smiles while Sugawara goes for his back pocket, fishing out a 50 and passing it over to him.

 

“ _What Van Gogh scenery?_ ” Akaashi quietly asks Tsukishima, who plays none the wiser. Akaashi takes a good look at him but decides to play along when he notices a faint tint of pink on the tips of his ears and doesn't press any further.

Having a Van Gogh scenery, even if it's not an original, is a very nice thing. He just might have the perfect spot for it.

“What a mess...” Ushijima sighs.

“Oh, that reminds me, we found your painting in their van. It's safe.” Hanamaki informs him. “There's also a few others but I don't know if all of them were picked up from your storage.”

“Thank you.”

Kageyama glanced discreetly in Akaashi's direction who caught it but let him know he can relax. He has it all under control. Kageyama relaxes a bit, sighing in relief.

“You okay?” Oikawa asks him, having finally stopped crying, looking presentable as always.

“Yeah, just a bit tired.”

“We'll get you home soon.”

“What home?” Matsukawa asks. “We still have vacation time to make use of.”

“How about we not risk him getting any more traumatised?” Oikawa smiles.

“ _How about you stop sending him on errands on his vacation behind our backs?_ ” Sugawara smiles back.

“...uh...”

“By the way, you're extending our vacation by another month.”

“ _Another month?!_ ”

“Any problems with that?”

“...no.”

“Why thank you, Oikawa, you're the best!” Hanamaki beams as he hears they'll get more time off.

 

Damn it, that's the whole September without his most trusted restoration team. Oikawa sighs heavily.  


 

“Don't worry about it, Oikawa.” Ushijima says. “We can agree on another term.”

“But...”

“I have things to fix here and paperwork to deal with for a longer time, so...”

“I can help out.” Sugawara offers. “I don't need the extra time off.”

“You would?” Oikawa beams at him, tearing up again.

“Yeah.”

“ _You mean you have some burning issues to deal with in September?_ ” Hanamaki mutters, earning himself a fist from Sugawara.

“Not a word from you.”

“It's settled then!” Oikawa declares, missing the painful exchange between them. “When can you start?”

“Is it okay if I join you on the 2nd?” Sugawara asks Ushijima who nods in agreement.

They all walk out to meet the police and ambulance, everyone giving out a statement.

 

Akaashi and Tsukishima kept the story with  _accidentally meeting Kageyama wandering the streets alone_ to an agreeable minimum, Bokuto and Kuroo confirmed it, the part with the masked guys was the only truth spoken there and there were a few reporters waiting outside the premises to get the story of an attempted robbery in the middle of a gala night.

The papers were full of it the following morning, but not a single one of them had the true version of the event. It was still headline material, even so.

 

Kageyama had no chance whatsoever to talk to Tsukishima before they all scattered after the police report and the medical check up and they were out of each other's sight before anyone knew it. A few days pass until the situation dies down and not a word from any of them.

“ _Shit, Issei, what if we scared him off?_ ” Hanamaki whispered in terror over coffee on the terrace of their hotel early in the morning.

“...” Matsukawa can't really say anything to that, since it really was a type of _meeting the family all too soon_. But he _did_ hope they didn't fuck it up too hard.

“Well no one saw you lash out on that guy, so I think we're good.” Is what he concludes in the end.

Hanamaki can't disagree.

“Scared whom off?” Oikawa asks as he and Iwaizumi join them. “What?”

“ _Like hell am I gonna tell you._ ” Hanamaki mutters over his cup. It's bad enough the kidnappers ruined the kid's chance of a date, possibly Hanamaki himself, too, so no way he's gonna let Oikawa do the same.

“ _Rude._ ”

Up in his room, Kageyama has a dilemma of his own. He's pretty much convinced they all know now why he's been so chill the whole time and not being able to talk to anyone does not ease it one bit. He's also worried sick if that job or whatever they had went well. He hadn't heard anything being fake or going missing, so he figured the thing might have been a success. Akaashi-san looked confident enough.

 

Sugawara knocks on the door and comes in, carrying one cup of coffee and one glass of milk.

 

“Good morning, Kageyama-kun.” He smiles affectionately at him, placing both drinks on the nearest flat surface he can find.

“Hey...” He says, not moving an inch from the spot on his bed.

Sugawara stops for a moment there.

Oh, he's seen this once before. Or twice. Or three times. In himself, Hanamaki and Oikawa. To think he'd see it in Kageyama, too. What a time to be alive. It's beautiful and sad at the same time to see him so in love. Not knowing where the hell he is with all that.

“How are you?” Sugawara asks, sitting next to him, combing his fingers through his hair.

“...heavy.”

_Oh, I bet you are_ , Sugawara thinks.

“You know, you can always see where you are with all of this.” He says, waving with his phone, glass repaired and mask replaced. “He seems like a nice kid.”

“...you think?”

“Yes. Makki mentioned a date but if-”

And that's when Kageyama's phone starts buzzing. Sugawara waltzes out the room before Kageyama has a chance to react or even read the caller ID.

 

“Kageyama speaking.” He says, amazed he can keep his voice even.

“ _I admit, I was wrong to call you a goodie two shoes._ ” Tsukishima says over the phone, a hint of a smile in his voice.

Whatever the hell was so heavy, it was gone the moment he heard Tsukishima's voice.

“Do you now?” He can't help the smile spreading over his face.

“ _Yes. I also think someone owes me a date._ ” He continues, making Kageyama laugh. “ _I was stood up terribly last time. Although I must say that getting kidnapped is an excellent excuse to get out of one._ ”

“Yeah...”

 

_Sugawara quietly closes the door before he goes to fetch himself another cup._

 

_He has a feeling that conversation might be a longer one._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers, I love you all :')


	30. Let's try this vacation thing again, shall we?

“My, my.” Oikawa smiles as Kageyama walks down the stairs, all dressed up. “Going somewhere?”

Kageyama is in the middle of adjusting his sleeve under his favourite jacket when Oikawa poses the question, turning to him with a gentle genuine smile that thugs at Oikawa's heart strings.

“Yes. I have a date.” He replies, the smile growing a bit. “See you all later.”

_And he's out the door with a sight wave, that everyone present returns, with Hanamaki giving him a thumbs up._

“Was that Kageyama?” Iwaizumi asks as he returns from the next room, changed into something a bit more comfortable for the evening.

“Where's he off to?”

“He's got a date.” Matsukawa offers, straitening the news paper he was reading.

“Oh, that's nice-”

 

_And then Oikawa flips._

 

“Wha-when-WITH WHOM?” He screeches, scandalised. “Who are they? What's their blood group, shoe size and social security number, I demand to know!”

“Oikawa, chill.” Hanamaki sings out, all comfortable laying against Matsukawa's thigh, looking like a cat drunk on the finest milk.

“You think we'd let him go with some total stranger?” (They did. The first time around.)

“Wh-”

“He'll be fine.”

“How would you know?!”

“ _Because you didn't send him._ ”

Oikawa was about to retort, although not sure what to say to that, but a hand on his shoulder stops him. He turns to see Iwaizumi on his _business_ phone.

 _Good thinking, Iwa-chan_ , he thinks, all triumphant as he leans over to see the screen.

“Oh, my.” Oikawa blinks as Iwaizumi nods in approval. “Not bad.”

“Not bad at all.” He repeats.

But their marvel at the screen and all the info on it is cut short when Sugawara takes the phone from Iwaizumi's hands with a stern expression on his face.

“Knock it off.” He warns.

“Were you two seriously using _that_ to find out who it is?” Matsukawa asks, eyes cast their direction just visible over the rim of the paper.

Nothing ever good comes from Matsukawa and Sugawara getting defensive.

“...no.”

“Great.” Hanamaki chirps, deleting everything from Iwaizumi's phone history when Sugawara passes it to him. “Nice to know that you trust him at least that much.”

 

_It's not him that they don't trust, it's the other guy._

_But tell that to those three and stay alive._

 

“Say, don't you two have something to discuss?” Hanamaki asks as he gets up and hands over the phone back to Iwaizumi.

“Discuss what?” Iwaizumi asks, slightly confused.

“The final reconciliation of Oikawa Tooru and Ushijima Wakatoshi?” Hanamaki offers, oh so innocently, but Oikawa knows better.

“Huh?”

“I'm sure Oikawa has a lot to tell you.” Hanamaki pats his shoulder before getting back to Matsukawa.

_Oikawa now regrets ever getting drunk to the point of spilling his sorrows to this demon._

“What's he talking about?” Iwaizumi finally turns to Oikawa with a curious look and Oikawa feels even more regret.

“Uh... _a thing way back in the past?_ ”

“ _The hell did you do now?_ ”

“ _Yes, Oikawa, it's not good to keep it all bottled in._ ” Hanamaki ads, getting hit with a pillow square in the face.

“ _SHUT IT, YOU!_ ”

“Oikawa?” Iwaizumi is now greatly concerned.

“I...may have...ended up... _Ushijima kissed me way back then, alright!_ ” Oikawa squeaks it out, looking really uncomfortable.

The silence stretches out as Iwaizumi can only stare at him.

 

Hanamaki, on the other hand, crashes from the sofa, laugh erupting from him in a forceful wave.

 

“ _Oh, my God, you actually told him._ ” He manages, already red in the face. “ _I can't believe it._ ”

Iwaizumi finally checks back in with reality.

“Was that before or after we met?” He asks.

“Before.”

“Okay, then.” Is the final verdict as he plops down into the only available arm chair.

 

“...that's it?” Oikawa asks, now slightly insulted by this lack of reaction.

 

“For crying out loud, Oikawa”, he arches a brow at him, “it was just a kiss.”

 

Hanamaki takes approximately three seconds before he falls into another laughing fit, this time accompanied by Sugawara and Matsukawa.

 

* * *

 

 

“You are terrible at this.” Tsukishima comments.

“I know.” Kageyama says, smiling.

“Here, let me.” Tsukishima places both his hands on Kageyama's, steadying the camera. “You have rather shaky hands for a painter, you know.”

“ _Or is it because of me?_ ” He whispers, amused at the slight colouration of Kageyama's ears.

“Maybe.”

“Only maybe?”

“Maybe.” Kageyama repeats, having a difficult time focusing on the task at hand. Namely to get the basics of photography down.

He's trying to snap a picture of the Pantheon but it's awfully hard with having to fight laugh fits that make his hands shake. Why that is, he doesn't really know. (Of course he does.)

“You were much more cooperative when you were kidnapped.” Tsukishima says, half serious.

“Blame it on the Stockholm syndrome.”

“Oh? So there were tensions between you and that kidnapper of yours?”

Tsukishima's mind wanders off, back to the evening he had asked Kageyama to paint something. He found Akaashi's reaction a bit too much the first time it happened, but he quickly realised it was no joke. Kageyama gets so into whatever he does with a rare kind of intensity. Tsukishima can still feel his hand guiding him through a technique. God, he actually felt a bit jealous Akaashi was the one to experience it first.

...ahem.

 

“I can't really recall...” Kageyama teases back, snapping him from his thoughts.

“What a shame.”

Oh, yeah. That was a pretty close one back there.

“Though I wouldn't mind teaching you a thing or two if you'd like.” Kageyama offers, hands finally steady enough to take what he hopes to be a decent photo.

“...I'd like that...” Tsukishima says. “Now that you finally have calm hands, here's where you switch the filter.”

“There. All done.”

“Thank you.”

“Now allow me to show you how I usually take pictures.”

“Is my camera phone going to be sufficient?”

“I'll live.”

 

They're on a roof top again, this time overlooking the Basilica. And what a majestic view it is.

“You should see the Taj Mahal.” Tsukishima says as he switches between the build in filters until he reaches the one he wants.

“It changes with every hour of the day. I have a full album of it.”

“That's a lot of work. Did you sneak on a roof top?”

“Maybe I did.”

Before Kageyama could say anything, Tsukishima was done with his little photo-session.

 

“You are not in this business for nothing.” Kageyama says as he takes a look at the photo gallery, amazed.

“Takes a bit of practice. And time to get the hang of it.”

Kageyama knows that all too well. He spent five year plus getting the hang of things in his line of work. Five years...is a lot of time to get the hang out of things.

 

“ _...would it be too soon to tell you that I like you?_ ” Kageyama asks, still focused on the photo album.

“...is that the Stockholm syndrome talking?”

Kageyama snorts lightly at that.

“I'm pretty sure it's not Stockholm syndrome.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

“I'm not sure if it's too soon”, Tsukishima starts, “but if by that you mean you'd like to get to know me better, then I wouldn't say it is.”

  
_“So you like me, too?”_

 

“ _Yeah, I like you too.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I should whip up a sequel for this. What do you think?

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the world of fine art an me being a smartass, sprinkling fancy terms like those of painting techniques and big ass names of the art world all over this fic.
> 
> Think "The Italian Job" as a very loose reference. A very, very loose reference.


End file.
